THE  YOUNG  KENTUCKIANS  SERfES 


BATTLING  FOR 
ATLANTA 


BYRON  A.DUNN 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


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#iLMfcR  CQLLECTiO 


W>  Jkwilty  Cary, 


BATTLING    FOR    ATLANTA 


The  Young  Kentuckians   Series 


Byron  A.  Dunn 


General  Nelson's  Scout 

On   General  Thomas's  Staff 

Battling  for  Atlanta 


Illustrated,  i2mo,  per  volume,  $1.25 


A.    C.   McClurg  &   Co. 
Chicago 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/battlingforatlan10dunn 


"SEE,    SEE,    THERE    IS    ATLANTA!" 


The  Young  Kentuckians  Series 


Battling  for  Atlanta 


Byron  A.   Dunn 

Author  of  "General   Nelson's  Scout," 
"On   General  Thomas's  Staff" 


Chicago 
A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 

1900 


Copyright 
By   A.  C.   McCLURG   &   CO. 

A.    D.    19OO 
All  rights  reserved 


TO 

WHO    MARCHED   WITH    ME   FROM 

CHATTANOOGA   TO   ATLANTA 

STRUGGLING   WITH    A    BRAVE    AND  GALLANT   FOE 

FOR   EVERY   FOOT   OF  TERRITORY 

THIS   VOLUME    IS 

AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED 


602865 


INTRODUCTION. 

'T^HIS,  the  third  volume  of  the  Young  Kentuck- 
■*-  ians  Series,  deals  with  the  great  campaign  that 
resulted  in  the  capture  of  Atlanta,  the  Gate  City  of 
the  South.  It  was  a  campaign  in  which  two  hun- 
dred thousand  men  took  part,  and  in  which  eighty- 
thousand  were  placed  hors  de  combat. 

Those  who  have  read  the  preceding  volumes  of 
the  Young  Kentuckians  Series  should  bear  in  mind 
that  the  boys  of  sixteen  and  seventeen  years  of  age 
to  whom  they  were  first  introduced  have  been  in 
the  army  between  three  and  four  years,  and  are 
now  young  men  of  nearly  twenty.  For  that  reason 
this  volume  is  not  so  juvenile  in  character  as  the 
preceding  ones,  but  Captain  Shackelford  is  as  full 
of  youthful  valor  and  patriotic  zeal  as  when  he 
served  under  General  Nelson. 

In  the  movements  of  the  armies,  in  the  im- 
portant actions  of  the  generals,  and  in  everything 
characteristic  of  the  spirit  in  which  the  war  was 
conducted  by  both  parties,  my  aim  has  been  histor- 
ical accuracy. 

7 


8  I  NT  ROD  UC  TION, 

Fred's  and  Darling's  flight  through  Georgia, 
pursued  by  fierce  bloodhounds  and  almost  as  fierce 
a  soldiery,  had  its  counterparts  in  hundreds  of  cases. 

The  horrors  of  Andersonville  are  not  overdrawn ; 
in  fact,  no  pen  can  depict  that  fearful  place  as  it 
really  was.  Nearly  fourteen  thousand  grassy 
mounds  tell  the  pathetic  story  in  language  more 
eloquent  than  mere  words. 

In  "Battling  for  Atlanta"  I  have  endeavored  to 
depict  the  sufferings  and  privations  endured  by  the 
soldiers,  especially  those  immured  in  the  prison- 
pens  of  the  South,  and  to  enable  the  present  gen- 
eration to  form  an  idea  of  the  great  price  paid  by 
their  fathers  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union. 

Byron  A.  Dunn. 

Waukegan,  III.,  June,  1900. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

i.  rocky  face  ridge 

ii.  snake  creek  gap 

iii.  resaca         .... 

iv.  a  battle  that  was  never  fought 

v.  transferred  to  sherman's  staff 

vi.  kenesaw  .... 

vii.  mcpherson  and  revenge 

viii.  stoneman's  raid 

ix.  the  fall  of  atlanta 

x.  prince  and  the  major 

xi.  an  unexpected  meeting 

xii.  andersonville 

xiii.  the  escape 

xiv.  ten  thousand  dollars  reward    - 

xv.  a  fight  with  the  bloodhounds 

xvi.  a  meeting  with  smith 

xvii.  faithful  unto  death     - 

xviii.  lucille  de  courtney 

xix.  love  versus  honor 

xx.  the  death  of  smith 

xxi.  the  recovery  of  prince 

xxii.  "see!  see!  there  is  Atlanta." 


PAGE 
13 

43 
56 


103 
120 

136 
152 
166 

183 
201 
218 
238 
254 
273 
290 

3i8 
324 
347 
365 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 

"  see,  see,  there  is  Atlanta!"  -  -  Frontispiece. 

"MY  GOOD  WOMAN,  HAVE  YOU  SEEN  ANY  YANKS?"  -  29 

FRED  TOOK  ONE  LONG  LOOK,  AND  THAT  WAS  ENOUGH  -       45 

ABOUT    FIFTEEN    OR    TWENTY  FOUND  THEMSELVES  CUT  OFF       67 

THE    SHOT     WAS      FIRED     BY      ONE     OF      THE      CONFEDERATE 

SOLDIERS  ------  99 

"MC  PHERSON  AND  REVENGE!  "  -  Il8 

TWO    BATTERIES    AND    A    THOUSAND    PRISONERS  WERE  CAP- 
TURED      -------  149 

PRINCE    GAVE    A    PRODIGIOUS    BOUND,    AND    WHEELED    LIKE 

A  FLASH  ---.--  162 

"don't  shoot!  don't  shoot!  he  is  crazy!"            -  -  196 

swift  as  the  swoop  of  a  hawk  came  the  attack  -         244 

fred  threw  up  his  hands  without  a  word         -  -  262 

there  came  the  sharp  crack  of  a  revolver  -        295 

miss   de  courtney   struck   his   horse,  and   his   shot 

went  wild  .-.-.-  330 

fred  and  darling  vaulted  on  the  bare  backs  of  the 

horses,  and  were  off     .....  363 


BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ROCKY  FACE  RIDGE. 

TWENTY-FIVE  miles  southeast  of  Chatta- 
nooga, Tennessee,  there  stretches  a  long,  low 
mountain,  known  as  Rocky  Face  Ridge  on  account 
of  its  steep,  precipitous  cliffs.  Three  miles  from 
its  northern  end  the  mountain  is  broken  in  twain 
by  a  small  stream,  and  the  gap  is  called  Mill  Creek 
Gap,  taking  its  name  from  the  stream  which  flows 
through  it.  On  either  side  of  the  creek  the  rugged 
sides  of  the  mountain  stretch  away  to  the  north  and 
south,  wooded  to  the  summit,  and  the  place  is 
known  through  all  the  country  round  as  "Buzzard 
Roost." 

The  northern  end  of  Rocky  Face  is  broken  into 
a  succession  of  rough,  wooded  hills.  One  of  these 
hills  runs  southwest,  thence  south,  paralleling  the 
ridge,  the  two  being  separated  by  a  narrow  valley. 
By  means  of  a  tunnel  the  railroad  from  Chatta- 
nooga to  Atlanta  passes  through  this  hill,  which  is 
hence  called  Tunnel  Hill. 

After  piercing  the  hill,  the  railroad  winds 
13 


H 


BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 


through  the  little  valley,  thence  through  Mill  Creek 
Gap  on  to  Dalton.  The  wagon-road  passes  around 
the  southern  end  of  Tunnel  Hill,  and  then  through 
the  gap  close  to  the  railroad. 

It  was  along  the  summit  of  Rocky  Face  Ridge 
and  in  the  rugged  defiles  of  Mill  Creek  Gap  that 
the  Confederate  army,  under  the  command  of  Gen- 
eral Joseph  E.  Johnston,  lay 
strongly  fortified  in  the  spring 
of  1864.  General  Grant  had 
been  called  to  the  supreme 
command  of  the  United  States 
forces,  and  was  in  the  East. 
The  Federal  army  in  and 
around  Chattanooga  was  under 
the  command  of  Major-Gen- 
eral W.  T.  Sherman.  This 
general  had  gathered  together 
an  army  of  one  hundred  thousand  men  for  his 
onward  march  to  Atlanta. 

General  Sherman's  army  consisted  of  three  dis- 
tinct organizations,  known  as  the  Army  of  the  Cum- 
berland, under  the  command  of  Major-General 
George  H.  Thomas;  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee, 
under  the  command  of  Major-General  James  B. 
McPherson,  and  the  Army  of  the  Ohio,  under  the 
command  of  Major-General  John  M.  Schofield. 

The  Army  of  the  Cumberland  consisted  of  the 
Fourth,  Fourteenth,  and  Twentieth  Corps,  com- 
manded respectively  by  Generals  Oliver  O  Howard, 
John  M.  Palmer,  and  Joseph  Hooker. 

11 


GENERAL  SHERMAN. 


ROCKT  FACE  RIDGE.  1 5 

The  Army  of  the  Tennessee  consisted  of  the 
Fifteenth,  Sixteenth,  and  afterwards  the  Seven- 
teenth Corps,  commanded  respectively  by  Generals 
John  A.  Logan,  G.  M.  Dodge,  and  Frank  P.  Blair. 

The  Army  of  the  Ohio  consisted  of  only  one 
corps,  the  Twenty-third. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  war  the 
armies  of  the  Federal  government  were  to  be  directed 
by  one  master  mind.  There  was  to  be  no  more  play- 
ing at  cross-purposes.  Grant  and  Sherman  were  to 
move  at  the  same  time,  the  former  to  crush  the 
Army  of  Virginia  under  General  Robert  E.  Lee, 
and  capture  Richmond;  the  latter  to  defeat  the 
Confederate  army  under  General  Joseph  E.  Johns- 
ton, and  take  Atlanta.  The  grand  forward  move- 
ment of  both  armies  was  to  commence  on  the  first 
of  May,  but  it  was  the  third  of  the  month  before 
General  Sherman  had  concentrated  the  whole  of 
his  army  and  taken  the  one  step  forward  which 
commenced  the  Atlanta  campaign. 

To  oppose  General  Sherman's  immense  army, 
General  Joseph  E.  Johnston  had  fifty  thousand 
men  in  and  around  Dalton,  and  twenty  thousand 
more  were  hastening  to  reinforce  him.  The  differ- 
ence in  numbers  was  fully  compensated  by  the 
strong  defensive  positions  at  the  command  of  Gen- 
eral Johnston,  which  Sherman  must  attack  and  cap- 
ture. Thus  nearly  two  hundred  thousand  men 
were  soon  to  engage  in  a  death-struggle. 

If  one  had  stood  on  Tunnel  Hill  on  the  morn- 
ing of  May  8,  1864,  a  most  magnificent  sight  would 


1 6  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

have  met  his  view.  It  was  a  beautiful  Sabbath 
morning.  The  sun  shone  brightly,  a  gentle  breeze 
stirred  the  leaves  of  the  trees,  all  fair  and  smiling 
lay  the  landscape. 

Along  the  crest  of  Tunnel  Hill  stretched  long 
lines  of  Federal  soldiers.  The  barrels  of  ten  thou- 
sand rifles  caught  the  rays  of  the  sun  and  shone 
like  a  stream  of  burnished  silver.  Rocky  Face 
Ridge,  wooded  to  the  summit,  lay  before  and  tow- 
ering above  these  Federal  lines.  Its  forests  nodded 
and  beckoned  as  if  to  say,  "Come  and  rest  in  our 
cooling  shade." 

The  mountain  gave  forth  no  signs  of  life.  But 
the  soldiers  who  looked  upon  its  wooded  heights 
knew  that  it  was  but  a  slumbering  volcano,  that 
death  lurked  behind  each  tree  and  rock  and  crag. 
High  above  it,  buzzards  wheeled  and  circled,  and 
the  soldiers  saw  and  shuddered. 

On  the  Hill  a  little  group  of  officers  sat  on  their 
horses  surveying  the  Ridge  through  their  glasses. 
A  little  apart  from  this  group,  mounted  on  a  mag- 
nificent bay  horse,  sat  a  young  officer,  gazing  not 
on  the  mountain,  but  out  over  the  country  toward 
Chattanooga.  The  scene  was  one  of  surpassing 
beauty.  Before  him  lay  hill  and  dale,  mountain 
and  valley.  Half-way  to  Chattanooga  he  could  see 
the  top  of  the  forest  which  covered  the  bloody  field 
of  Chickamauga.  Low  in  the  horizon  could  be 
traced  the  dim  outline  of  Lookout. 

But  the  gaze  of  the  young  officer  did  not  linger 
long  on  the  distant  view ;   it  was  fixed  on  the  valley 


ROCKT  FACE  RIDGE.  1 7 

that  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  Hill.  Through  it  were 
winding  long  columns  of  men.  As  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  the  line  could  be  traced.  Hundreds  of 
lumbering  white-covered  wagons,  each  drawn  by 
six  mules,  were  crawling  along,  raising  clouds  of 
dust.  To  the  marching  columns  and  crawling 
trains  there  seemed  to  be  no  end.  It  would  have 
taken  not  only  hours,  but  days,  for  that  army,  with 
its  trains,  to  pass  a  given  point. 

Long  did  the  officer  look,  as  if  fascinated  by  the 
sight.  Suddenly  a  band  commenced  playing,  and 
the  stirring  notes  of  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner" 
brought  cheer  after  cheer  from  the  soldiers.  The 
marching  columns  in  the  valley  took  up  the  shout, 
and  it  rolled  along  the  line  until  it  died  away  in  the 
distance  like  the  faint  murmur  of  falling  water. 
But  from  Rocky  Face  there  came  back  no  answer- 
ing shout.  The  mountain  still  lay  wrapped  in 
silence. 

The  band  played  selection  after  selection,  and  at 
last  the  notes  of  "Home,  Sweet  Home"  floated 
softly  through  the  air.  The  soldiers  became  silent. 
Heads  were  bowed,  lips  trembled,  eyes  grew  moist. 
They  saw  no  more  the  frowning  mountain,  the  long 
lines  of  battle.  Instead,  there  came  visions  of  the 
green  fields  and  broad  prairies  of  the  North.  They 
heard  the  ringing  of  church-bells,  saw  the  faces  of 
loved  ones  watching  and  praying,  and  heads  were 
bowed  lower,  and  tears  stained  more  than  one 
bronzed  cheek. 

The    music    died    away,    and    then    the    solemn 


1 8  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

silence  was  broken  by  the  roar  of  a  cannon,  and 
a  shell  went  shrieking  through  the  air.  A  moment 
more,  and  those  who  gazed  saw  a  puff  of  white 
smoke  away  up  on  the  side  of  Rocky  Face,  and 
then  there  came  back  a  dull  reverberation.  The 
shell  had  struck  and  exploded.  Again  the  gun 
roared,  and  battery  after  battery  joined  in  the 
mighty  chorus.  All  along  the  crest  of  Rocky  Face 
could  be  seen  puffs  of  white  smoke,  caused  by  the 
exploding  shells;  but  the  rocky  palisades  flung 
back  the  fragments  in  derision.  The  mountain 
still  lay  wrapped,  as  it  were,  in  slumber. 

"Attention !" 

The  long  lines  of  blue  were  on  their  feet  in  an 
instant. 

' '  Forward — march ! ' ' 

The  lines  moved  down  the  hill,  across  the  nar- 
row valley.  Still  the  mountain  gave  forth  no  sign 
of  life.  Clouds  of  skirmishers  were  thrown  out,  and 
entered  the  nodding  forest  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge. 

Now  the  mountain,  which  had  lain  so  long  life- 
less, burst  into  flame  and  smoke.  Behind  tree  and 
rock  crouched  gray-coated  veterans  ready  stoutly 
to  dispute  each  foot  of  ground.  The  great  conflict 
for  the  possession  of  Atlanta  had  begun,  and  yet 
Atlanta  was  more  than  one  hundred  miles  away, 
behind  many  a  mountain-range  and  river. 

When  the  first  cannon  shot  was  fired,  the  young 
officer  mentioned  started  as  if  from  a  trance,  and 
wheeling  his  horse,  rode  to  the  side  of  General 
Thomas ;    for    he  was   on    the   staff   of   that  distin- 


ROCKY  FACE  RIDGE.  19 

guished  officer.  He  watched  with  kindling  eye  the 
long  lines  of  men  as  they  moved  forward  down  the 
Hill,  across  the  valley,  and  then  commenced  the 
ascent  of  Rocky  Face.  Slowly  the  Federal  skir- 
mishers pushed  their  way  up  the  mountain,  but 
near  the  top  they  found  a  perpendicular  barrier  of 
rock. 

General  Thomas,  who  had  been  closely  observ- 
ing the  conflict,  saw  that  the  skirmishers  had  been 
halted  at  the  palisades,  and  turning  to  the  young 
staff  officer,  said:  "Captain,  I  wish  you  would  go 
forward,  examine  carefully  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain, then  ride  to  the  left  and  see  if  it  can  be 
ascended  from  the  northern  end.  Do  not  try  to 
approach  the  enemy's  lines  too  closely,  and  avoid 
all  danger  possible.  Come  back  and  report  after 
you  have  made  a  thorough  examination." 

The  young  captain  saluted,  and  rode  away  on 
his  mission.  Frederic  Shackelford  was  General 
Thomas's  Chief  of  Scouts.  He  was  young,  not  yet 
twenty,  but  had  already  distinguished  himself  by 
his  many  daring  deeds.  Entering  the  army  as 
a  scout  to  General  William  Nelson  almost  at  the 
commencement  of  the  war,  he  had  no  slight  part  in 
saving  Kentucky  to  the  Union.  After  the  lament- 
able death  of  Nelson,  he  was  appointed  on  the  staff 
of  General  Thomas,  and  was  chosen  by  that  officer 
as  his  Chief  of  Scouts. 

We  now  find  him  acting  in  that  capacity.  His 
father  was  a  distinguished  general  in  the  Confederate 
army,  and  thus  father   and    son  were  arrayed   the 


20  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

one   against  the   other.      It    was   two  hours   before 
Fred,  as  we  shall  call   the  young  captain,  returned. 

"General,"  he  reported,  "I  have  examined  the 
position  of  the  enemy  carefully,  approaching  their 
lines  as  closely  as  I  deemed  prudent." 

"A  little  closer  than  prudence  demanded, 
I  think,"  said  the  general,  as  he  glanced  at  Fred's 
left  shoulder,  where  the  shoulder-strap  had  been 
torn  away  by  a  ball. 

"Oh!  that's  nothing,"  replied  Fred,  with 
a  laugh.  "A  sharpshooter  tried  his  marksmanship 
on  me.  Pretty  good  shot,  but  a  trifle  high. 
I  find,"  he  continued,  "that  it  is  utterly  impos- 
sible for  our  soldiers  to  reach  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain. Near  the  summit  there  is  a  perpendicular 
ledge  of  rock  from  thirty  to  fifty  feet  high,  and 
there  is  scarcely  a  rift  in  it.  From  the  top  one 
man  can  hold  twenty  at  bay." 

"But  the  northern  end,  cannot  that  be  carried?" 
asked  the  general,  earnestly. 

"General  Newton's  division  has  already  carried 
the  northern  end,"  replied  Fred,  "and  is  on  top; 
but  the  summit  is  a  perfect  razor-back,  in  places 
hardly  wide  enough  for  half  a  dozen  men  to  walk 
abreast.  The  mountain  cannot  be  carried  by  assault ; 
it  must  be  flanked,  or  the  Gap  stormed." 

"It  will  never  do  to  storm  the  Gap,"  replied  the 
general;  "it  would  prove  a  slaughter-pen  for  our 
soldiers.  I  know  General  Sherman  has  no  such 
intention.     Ah!     There  he  comes  now.  " 

Fred   looked   and   saw   General   W.  T.  Sherman 


ROCKY  FACE  RIDGE.  21 

and  his  staff  riding  slowly  along  the  top  of  the  hill 
toward  them.  General  Sherman  was  at  that  time 
in  the  full  strength  of  his  manhood.  Straight  as 
an  arrow,  restless  and  nervous  in  his  movements, 
his  eyes  keen  and  piercing,  he  was  every  inch  a  sol- 
dier. Kind  and  obliging,  he  not  only  had  the  con- 
fidence of  every  soldier  in  his  army,  but  was  greatly 
beloved  by  all.  General  Sherman,  like  Grant,  was 
not  a  very  strict  disciplinarian  or  a  stickler  for  mili- 
tary etiquette.  He  looked  more  to  the  fighting 
qualities  of  his  men  than  to  their  appearance. 

Dismounting,  he  spoke  to  General  Thomas,  who 
also  dismounted,  and  the  two,  stepping  a  short  dis- 
tance to  one  side,  engaged  in  an  earnest  conversation. 

"What  you  have  told  me  of  this  place  is  cor- 
rect," said  General  Sherman;  "both  the  mountain 
and  the  Gap  seem  to  me  impregnable.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  neither  can  be  taken  without  an  immense 
sacrifice  of  life.  I  have  already  acted  on  your 
suggestion,  and  McPherson  is  on  his  way  to  turn 
the  enemy's  position  by  marching  through  Snake 
Creek  Gap.  His  orders  are  to  capture  Resaca,  if 
possible,  and  then  to  throw  his  army  astride  of  the 
railroad  and  hold  it.  If  he  can  do  this,  Johnston's 
army  is  in  our  grasp." 

"If  he  find  Resaca  too  strongly  held  to  justify 
storming  it,  have  you  given  him  positive  orders  to 
seize  and  hold  the  railroad  north  of  the  town?" 
asked  General  Thomas. 

"No,  not  positively;  his  orders  are  somewhat 
discretionary,"  answered  Sherman. 


22  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

"General,"  exclaimed  Thomas,  earnestly,  "I 
wish  you  had  let  me  make  this  movement  through 
Snake  Creek  Gap  with  the  Army  of  the  Cumber- 
land, as  I  requested.  I  am  afraid  McPherson's 
force  is  too  small  to  accomplish  what  you  desire, 
and  success  there  means  everything.  If  not  too 
late—" 

"It  is  too  late,"  broke  in  General  Sherman, 
impatiently.  "I  thought  we  discussed  that  point 
fully.  I  dare  not  confront  Johnston  with  the  Army 
of  the  Cumberland  gone;  it  comprises  a  good  two- 
thirds  of  my  force.  McPherson  must  make  the 
movement;  he  is  already  well  on  his  way." 

General  Thomas  bowed  in  acquiescence,  and 
replied:  "Very  well,  General.  I  will  not  discuss 
the  subject  further.  I  realize  that  you  are  pursu- 
ing the  safer  plan." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  Snake  Creek 
Gap?"  asked  General  Sherman.  "Would  it  be 
difficult  to  force,  if  stoutly  defended  even  by  a  small 
force?" 

"It  would,"  answered  General  Thomas.  "It  is 
a  narrow  defile,  about  six  miles  long,  I  am  told, 
and  the  sides  of  the  mountains  inclosing  it  are  steep 
and  rugged.  If  defended  even  by  a  small  force,  it 
would  prove  very  troublesome.  My  hope  is  that 
it  is  unguarded." 

"Is  there  any  possible  way  of  finding  out  before 
McPherson  attempts  the  passage?"  asked  Sherman. 

"I  have  an  officer  who  can  find  out,  if  any  one 
can,"  was  General  Thomas's  reply. 


ROCKT  FACE  RIDGE.  23 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Captain  Shackelford,  the  commander  of  my 
scouts." 

"Let  me  see  him  immediately." 

General  Thomas  turned  and  beckoned  to  an 
orderly,  who  at  once  obeyed  the  summons,  and  in 
a  moment  came  back  and  said  to  Fred,  "The 
General  desires  to  see  you,  Captain." 

"This  is  the  officer  of  whom  I  spoke,  General," 
said  Thomas  as  Fred  came  up,  saluted,  and  stood 
at  attention. 

General  Sherman  turned  his  keen  eyes  on  Fred, 
regarded  him  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  seemed 
struck  with  his  youthful  appearance,  when  a  smile 
of  recognition  came  over  his  face,  and  he  remarked, 
"I  think  we  have  met  before,  Captain." 

"Yes,  General,"  replied  Fred;  "at  Louisville. 
I  brought  you  dispatches  from  eastern  Kentucky, 
from  General  Nelson." 

"Ah!  I  remember;  you  are  the  boy,  too,  who 
threw  the  train  off  the  track,  and  thus  prevented 
Buckner   from  capturing    Louisville.*     You  found 

me  in  a  towering  rage  that  morning.     D me,  it 

makes  me  mad  yet  when  I  think  of  it.  The  news- 
papers called  me  crazy.  There  is  no  knowing  what 
they  will  call  me  before  I  get  through  with  this 
campaign,  especially  if  I  am  unsuccessful.  But, 
Captain,  General  Thomas  has  recommended  you 
as  a  proper  officer  to  find  out  whether  Snake  Creek 
Gap  is  held  in  force  by  the  enemy  or  not.      I   am 

*  See  "Genera!  Nelson's  Scout," 


24  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

well  pleased  with  his  selection.  McPherson  is 
already  en  route  for  the  Gap.  He  must  force  his 
way  through  to-morrow,  or  the  enemy  will  take 
alarm  and  have  the  Gap  strongly  defended.  If  he 
find  it  unguarded,  he  can  rush  through,  instead  of 
carefully  feeling  his  way." 

1 '  I  will  try  my  best  to  find  out,  General, ' '  replied 
Fred,  modestly. 

"I  have  no  fears  on  that  score;  but  remember 
that  much  may  depend  on  your  success.  You  had 
better  ride  around  by  Vilanow,  and  report  to 
McPherson  on  your  way.  Let  him  know  as  soon 
as  possible  what  you  find.  Another  thing,  be  sure 
and  don't  alarm  the  enemy  if  you  find  them." 

"I  will  be  careful  about  that,  General.  I  only 
hope  that  I  shall  find  the  way  clear,  and  that  by 
to-morrow  at  this  time  McPherson  will  have  Resaca 
and  that  the  rebel  army  will  be  in  your  power." 

It  did  not  take  Fred  long  to  make  his  prepara- 
tions. He  took  with  him  only  his  trusted  lieuten- 
ant, Richard  Darling,  and  four  of  his  best  and 
bravest  scouts.  Each  one  of  the  party  had  a  Con- 
federate uniform  rolled  up  in  his  blanket.  It  was 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  they  started, 
and  Snake  Creek  Gap  was  twenty  miles  away. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SNAKE  CREEK  GAP. 

RIDING  rapidly  to  the  south,  Fred  and  his  lit- 
tle company  were  soon  abreast  of  General 
Hooker's  corps.  This  general,  finding  that  the 
mountain  in  his  front  was  held  by  a  weak  line, 
thought  he  might  be  able  to  take  it  by  storm ;  and 
as  Fred  passed,  General  Geary's  division  was 
assaulting  a  depression  in  the  mountain  known  as 
Dug  Gap. 

Halting  a  moment,  Fred  gazed  upward  at  the 
sublime  and  awful  spectacle.  The  whole  side  of 
the  mountain  was  smoking  like  a  volcano.  So  far 
off  were  Geary's  men  that  they  looked  like  so  many 
ants  trying  to  crawl  up  the  palisades.  A  few  of  the 
bravest  succeeded  in  reaching  the  top,  but  they 
were  met  with  bayonet  and  clubbed  musket,  and 
hurled  back,  falling  on  the  jagged  rocks  below. 
Great  stones,  pried  from  the  top  of  the  palisades, 
came  thundering  down  the  mountain-side,  carrying 
death  and  destruction  in  their  path. 

Fred  shuddered,  and  giving  the  command,  "For- 
ward!" soon  left  the  roar  of  the  conflict  behind. 
A  ride  of  two  hours  brought  the  little  party  to 
Vilanow,  a  hamlet  a  few  miles  from  the  mouth  of 

25 


26  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Snake  Creek  Gap.  Here  Fred  met  General 
McPherson,  and  was  charmed  with  his  noble  bear- 
ing and  modest  demeanor.  General  McPherson 
was  one  of  the  most  distinguished-looking  officers 
in  the  Federal  army.  He  was  young,  only  thirty- 
four,  and  was  the  idol  of  his  soldiers. 

General  Sherman  had  great  confidence  in  the 
ability  of  McPherson,  and  had  intrusted  him  with 
the  command  of  the  movement  through  Snake 
Creek  Gap — the  movement  which  General  Thomas 
so  desired  to  make.  If  successful,  it  might  mean 
the  destruction  of  Johnston's  army  at  the  very 
beginning  of  the  campaign.  It  was  for  this  reason 
that  General  Thomas  was  so  anxious  to  be  allowed 
to  make  the  movement,  and  with  a  force  large 
enough  to  insure  success. 

When  Fred  informed  General  McPherson  of  his 
orders  and  what  was  expected  of  him,  the  general 
shook  his  head,  and  said:  "I  am  a  little  sorry 
General  Sherman  gave  you  these  orders.  Whatever 
you  do  must  be  done  to-night,  for  I  shall  be  ready 
to  enter  the  Gap  with  my  whole  army  early  in  the 
morning.  You  may  be  able  to  find  out  whether 
the  Gap  is  garrisoned  or  not,  but  at  the  same  time 
you  may  alarm  the  enemy,  and  thus  make  my  task 
harder." 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  General,"  answered  Fred, 
quietly.  "The  moment  we  are  outside  of  your 
lines  we  shall  disguise   ourselves  as  Confederates." 

"That  is  a  dangerous  game,  Captain." 

"Our    duty    compels    us    to    play   at   dangerous 


SNAKE   CREEK  GAP.  27 

games,"  responded  Fred.  "If  I  understand  your 
movement,  General,  its  success  greatly  depends  on 
the  celerity  with  which  it  is  made.  Now,  not 
knowing  whether  Snake  Creek  Gap  is  defended  or 
not,  you  will  be  forced  to  advance  slowly  and  with 
great  caution.  If  you  knew  the  Gap  was  open,  you 
could  rush  through,  and  arrive  at  Resaca  before  the 
enemy  was  aware  of  your  movement." 

"That  is  very  true,"  was  McPherson's  reply; 
"but  suppose  you  find  the  Gap  garrisoned?" 

"You  will  then  be  forewarned,  and  make  prepa- 
rations accordingly." 

"That  is  true  also,  Captain,  and  I  only  wish 
that  you  may  be  successful.  But  any  knowledge 
you  may  gain,  to  be  of  service  to  me,  must  be 
reported  before  daylight." 

"I  will  try  to  be  on  time;  but,  General,  I  must 
be  going,  for  the  sun  is  scarcely  an  hour  high,  and 
I  wish  to  reach  the  mouth  of  the  Gap  by  sundown. 
I  hope  to  see  you  again  before  morning,  and  bring 
you  a  good  report." 

So  saying,  Fred  and  his  little  party  galloped 
away. 

General  McPherson  stood  looking  after  them 
until  out  of  sight;  then  turning  to  one  of  his  staff, 
he  said:  "That  Captain  Shackelford  is  a  promising 
young  officer.  I  have  heard  of  him ;  he  has  the 
name  of  being  one  of  the  most  reliable  scouts  in 
the  army.  But  it  is  a  dangerous  game  he  is  play- 
ing to-night ;  it  is  also  a  little  doubtful  as  to  its 
expediency.      If    he  succeed  only  in  alarming  the 


28  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

enemy,  it  will  make  my  task  the  more  difficult.  If 
it  were  any  other  man  than  Shackelford,  I  should 
have  been  decidedly  opposed  to  the  attempt.  As 
it  is,  I  believe  it  to  be  all  right.  Inform  our 
pickets  that  there  is  a  scouting  party  out  dressed  in 
Confederate  uniform.  I  gave  Captain  Shackelford 
the  countersign  for  to-night,  so  that  he  can  come 
into  our  lines  at  any  time." 

The  officer  saluted,  and  rode  away  to  carry  out 
the  general's  orders,  but  as  he  went  he  muttered: 
"I  had  rather  be  here  than  in  Captain  Shackelford's 
boots.  Ticklish  business  that,  dressing  up  in  rebel 
uniform." 

As  soon  as  Fred  was  well  out  of  the  Federal  lines 
he  halted,  and  said:  "Now,  boys,  we  will  dress"; 
and  in  a  few  minutes,  instead  of  Federal  sol- 
diers, they  appeared  to  be  a  party  of  dashing  Con- 
federate troopers. 

"If  we  are  caught  in  this  rig,  boys,"  remarked 
Fred,  "remember  it's  death,  and  death  in  its  most 
degrading  form." 

"I  shall  never  be  captured  alive,"  quietly  replied 
Darling.  "When  I  put  on  this  color  it  means  suc- 
cess or  death." 

"And  so  here,  '  cried  the  others. 

Fred  smiled.  "Boys,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  reckon 
we  understand  each  other,  and  are  all  of  one  mind. 
Now  forward,  or  it  will  be  dark  before  we  reach  the 
Gap." 

"What  if  we  meet  the  Johnnies?"  asked  Darling. 

"Fool  them,  if  we  can;  if  not,  fight  them  to  the 


"MY    GOOD    WOMAN,    HAVE    YOU    SEEN    ANY    YANKS?" 


SNAKE   CREEK  GAP.  20 

death;  there  is  nothing  else  for  us  to  do,"  was  the 
reply. 

They  rode  rapidly  forward  for  about  half  an  hour 
without  adventure,  and  just  as  the  sun  was  sinking 
to  rest  they  approached  the  mouth  of  the  Gap. 
Seeing  a  house  near  by  which  showed  signs  of 
being  inhabited,  Fred  thought  he  would  make  a  few 
inquiries.  Riding  up  to  the  house,  he  found  no 
one  at  home  but  women. 

"My  good  woman,"  said  Fred  to  a  slatternly 
looking  female  who  presented  herself,  chewing 
a  snuff-dipping  stick,  "have  you  seen  any  Yanks?" 

"Yanks!"  she  screamed,  in  a  shrill  falsetto; 
"Yanks!  Be  the  Yanks  cumin'?  Oh,  what  will 
we-uns  do?     What  will  we-uns  do?" 

"Do  not  get  excited,  madam,"  replied  Fred; 
"I  only  asked  you  if  you  had  seen  any.  I  did  not 
know  but  a  scouting  party  might  have  ventured 
this  far,  but  it  is  hardly  probable." 

"No,"  answered  the  woman;  "I  haven't  seen 
eny,  an'  I  don't  want  to.  But  I  hev  heard  big 
guns  'way  up  no'th.      Be  they  fightin'?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Fred;  "around  Buzzard 
Roost.  Have  you  seen  any  Confederate  soldiers 
here  lately?" 

"Confederate  solgers!"  asked  the  woman,  with 
a  puzzled  expression  on  her  face;  "who  be  they?" 

"Why,  our  soldiers — Southern  soldiers,"  said 
Fred,  correcting  himself. 

"Thar  was  sum  critter  solgers  heah  yest'rday," 
she  answered. 


30  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Just  then  a  sharp  word  of  warning  from  Dar- 
ling caused  Fred  to  look  up,  and  he  saw  a  troop  of 
Confederate  cavalry,  numbering  at  least  fifty,  bear- 
ing down  on  them. 

"Keep  cool,"  said  Fred,  in  a  low  tone;  "show 
no  signs  of  fear,  but  if  it  comes  to  the  worst,  sell 
your  lives  as  dearly  as  possible." 

Fred  then  deliberately  rode  forward  a  few  paces 
to  meet  the  Confederate  officer  in  command. 

"I  am  Captain  Shackelford  of  the  First  Ken- 
tucky Cavalry,"  said  Fred;  "whom  have  I  the 
honor  of  addressing?" 

"Captain  Seabright  of  the  Twelfth  Mississippi," 
was  the  answer;  "what  are  you  doing  down  here, 
Captain?" 

"I  am  on  my  way  to  Rome  with  important  dis- 
patches for  General  Polk.  General  Johnston  is  fear- 
ful that  part  of  the  Yankee  army  under  McPherson 
may  move  on  Rome  by  the  way  of  Lafayette." 

"Was  it  not  risky  to  come  this  side  of  the  moun- 
tain?" asked  Captain  Seabright. 

"General  Johnston  wished  me  to  do  so.  He 
thought  if  McPherson  was  moving  south,  I  might 
discover  the  fact,  and  also  whether  he  was  threat- 
ening Rome  or  Resaca. " 

Captain  Seabright  started.  "Resaca!"  he  ex- 
exclaimed;  "I  hope  McPherson  will  not  try  to  pass 
through  Snake  Creek  Gap,  at  least  not  for  the  next 
two  days." 

"I  reckon  there  is  no  danger,"  answered  Fred. 
"I    have    ascertained    there    are    no    Yankees    at 


SNAKE   CREEK  GAP.  3 1 

Vilanow,  nor  have  there  been,  except  a  small  scout- 
ing party.  But  why  do  you  say  you  hope  that 
McPherson  will  not  attempt  to  pass  through  Snake 
Creek  Gap,  at  least  not  for  the  next  two  days?" 

"Because  it  is  now  totally  unprotected.  Gen- 
eral Canty  has  become  alarmed,  and  has  sent  to 
Johnston  for  a  brigade  of  cavalry  to  protect  it. 
They  are  expected  some  time  to-morrow." 

"Is  that  so?  I  must  have  left  before  the  tele- 
gram arrived.  But  General  Canty  need  not  be 
alarmed ;  the  cavalry  will  have  an  abundance  of 
time  to  reach  the  Gap  before  it  can  possibly  be 
threatened.  It  looks  now  as  if  Johnston  were  giv- 
ing the  whole  Yankee  army  all  it  wants  around 
Buzzard  Roost.  Their  lines  now  extend  but  a  little 
south  of  Dug  Gap." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,  yet  General  Canty  will 
not  rest  easy  until  the  cavalry  comes.  I  am  under 
orders  from  him  now  to  scout  as  far  as  Vilanow  to 
see  if  the  enemy  has  any  force  there." 

"I  scarcely  see  any  necessity  for  your  doing  that 
now,  as  I  have  just  ascertained  that  fact." 

"Orders  must  be  obeyed,"  Captain  Seabright 
answered,  sharply,  and  with  a  keen  look  at  Fred. 

"You  are  right,  Captain,"  answered  Fred,  with- 
out a  change  of  countenance;  "I  did  not  know 
your  orders  were  positive." 

' '  I  believe  you  said  your  name  was  Shackelford  ?' ' 
said  Captain  Seabright,  still  eying  Fred  closely; 
"are  you  any  relation  of  General  Richard  Shackel- 
ford of  our  army?" 


32  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"I  am  happy  to  say  he  is  a  relative  of  mine," 
replied  Fred,  quietly.  "But,  Captain,  I  must  bid 
you  good-night,  as  we  have  a  long  ride  before  us. 
May  good  fortune  attend  you.  Come  on,  boys!" 
And  with  these  words  Fred  and  his  party  galloped 
southward. 

Captain  Seabright  gazed  after  them  through  the 
gathering  shades  of  night  until  out  of  sight.  Then 
turning  to  one  of  his  lieutenants,  he  said:  "I  wish 
I  had  questioned  that  fellow  more  closely.  I  didn't 
like  his  suggestion  of  my  not  going  to  Vilanow 
when  I  had  orders  to  go  there.  It  looks  strange. 
That  may  have  been  a  party  of  Yanks  in  dis- 
guise." 

"Well,  if  that  captain  is  a  Yank,  he  is  a  cool 
one,"  answered  the  lieutenant. 

"There  is  one  satisfaction,"  replied  Seabright; 
"if  he  is  a  Yank,  he  will  not  go  south  far  before  he 
will  get  into  trouble.  But  come  on,  boys;  we  shall 
soon  see  whether  he  told  the  truth  or  not  about 
there  being  no  Yankees  at  Vilanow. ' '  And  the  whole 
party  set  out  at  a  sharp  gallop  for  that  place. 

Captain  Seabright  was  a  cautious  as  well  as 
a  brave  man,  and  he  rode  with  two  of  his  best  men 
in  advance  to  guard  against  surprise.  They  had 
not  gone  more  than  two  miles  when  they  rose  over 
the  brow  of  a  hill  which  overlooked  Vilanow.  Cap- 
tain Seabright  reined  in  his  horse,  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise.  For  miles  up  and  down  the  valley 
camp-fires  glowed.  The  whole  of  McPherson's 
army  lay  before  him.      He  gave  one  look,  and  then 


SNAKE   CREEK  GAP.  33 

muttered:  "Captain  Shackelford,  I  wish  I  had  you 
here,  and  a  rope  around  your  neck." 

Riding  forward  a  few  paces  to  get  a  better  view, 
he  was  suddenly  challenged,  and  the  sentry  not 
receiving  any  answer,  fired.  The  ball  whistled 
uncomfortably  close  to  the  captain's  head.  Wheel- 
ing his  horse,  he  galloped  back  to  his  command. 

"Boys,"  he  cried,  "that  Captain  Shackelford 
deceived  us.  McPherson's  whole  army  is  before 
us.  They  are  making  for  Snake  Creek  Gap.  Let 
us  get  back  and  give  the  alarm  before  a  regiment  of 
Yankee  cavalry  is  on  us." 

But  already  the  thundering  of  horses'  hoofs  gave 
notice  that  the  Yankee  regiment  was  coming. 
Wheeling  their  horses,  the  Confederates  rode  at 
full  speed  back  over  the  road  over  which  they  had 
just  come. 

We  will  now  return  to  Fred  and  his  party.  No 
sooner  were  they  out  of  sight  and  hearing  than 
Fred  ordered  a  halt.  "Boys,"  he  exclaimed,  "that 
was  a  close  call.  I  came  near  putting  my  foot  in  it 
when  I  suggested  to  that  captain  that  he  need  not 
go  to  Vilanow.  But  I  was  playing  for  a  big  stake. 
I  got  the  information  I  wanted,  but  it  looks  now  as 
if  it  would  do  us  precious  little  good." 

"Why?"  asked  Darling. 

"Why?"  echoed  Fred.  "Don't  you  see  those 
rebels  will  strike  McPherson's  advance.  It  is  night, 
and  the  soldiers  will  have  camp-fires  lighted. 
Those  scouts  will  discover  that  there  is  a  great 
army    before   them,    that   it   is   making   for  Snake 


34  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

Creek  Gap,  and  the  result  will  be  that  by  morning 
the  Gap  will  be  strongly  defended.  That  is  the 
reason  I  risked  so  much  in  trying  to  keep  that  cap- 
tain from  going  to  Vilanow.  Boys,  that  squadron 
of  cavalry  must  be  stopped — captured — or  McPher- 
son's  movement  will  come  to  naught." 

"But  how?"  asked  Darling.  "We  are  six,  they 
are  fifty." 

"Nevertheless,"  Fred  exclaimed,  with  vehem- 
ence, "they  must  be  stopped,  and  we  must  stop 
them." 

If  it  had  been  light,  Fred  would  have  seen  that 
his  men  were  looking  at  him  with  wondering  eyes, 
as  though  they  thought  him  crazy. 

"I  tell  you,  boys,"  Fred  again  cried,  "they 
must  be  stopped,  and  I  believe  we  can  stop  them. 
Hear!" 

Fred  unfolded  his  plan  to  them.  They  listened 
in  silence  until  he  was  through,  and  then  they 
cried:  "Bravo,  Captain,  bravo!  We  are  with  you. 
It  is  dark,  and  the  plan  will  work." 

"Come  on,  then,"  answered  Fred,  "for  we  have 
no  time  to  lose." 

Turning  their  horses,  they  galloped  back  after 
the  Confederates,  who  had  fifteen  minutes  the 
start.  They  had  ridden  about  two  miles  when  the 
faint  sound  of  a  shot  was  borne  back  to  them. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Fred;  "they  have  struck 
our  pickets.  They  will  be  coming  back  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  here  is  a  good  place  to  try  our  plan." 

There  were  thick  woods  on  each  side  of  the  road, 


SNAKE   CREEK  GAP.  35 

making  it  so  dark  that  objects  could  not  be  distin- 
guished five  paces  away. 

"Now,  Darling,"  rapidly  continued  Fred,  "you 
take  Avery  and  advance  about  fifty  yards,  and  take 
position  on  one  side  of  the  road.  You,  Craig,  take 
the  other  side  alone.  Owens  and  Adams  will  stay 
with  me.  When  the  rebels  come,  we  will  halt  them 
and  stop  them  if  possible.  Then,  Darling,  you  and 
Avery  on  one  side  of  the  road,  and  Craig  on  his 
side,  make  all  the  noise  possible.  Give  commands 
as  if  you  had  a  large  force.  Tell  them  not  to  fire 
without  orders.  No  doubt  the  pursuing  cavalry 
will  be  close  behind  them,  and  if  we  can  halt  them 
until  our  men  come  up,  we  can  bag  them." 

"But,  Captain,"  said  Darling,  "you  and  the 
two  with  you  will  have  the  most  dangerous  place. 
Let  me  stay  with  you." 

"No;  do  as  I  direct.      Quick,  they  are  coming!" 

The  swift  beating  of  horses'  feet  could  be  heard 
coming  down  the  road,  and  Darling,  Avery,  and 
Craig  hastened  to  take  their  positions. 

"Steady,  now,"  whispered  Fred  to  the  two  men 
with  him.  "Don't  give  ground;  let  them  ride  over 
you  first.  If  they  don't  halt  at  the  first  command, 
fire,  but  shoot  at  the  horses,  not  the  men.  If  we  can 
bring  down  the  foremost  horses,  the  rest  will  halt." 

On  came  the  Confederates  in  headlong  flight, 
not  dreaming  of  danger.  Suddenly  there  came 
the  sharp  command  :  "Halt  there!  Surrender!  You 
are  surrounded!" 

Such  was  the  speed  of  the  Confederates,   they 


36  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

could  not  have  halted  at  once  if  they  had  tried. 
The  heavy  navy  revolvers  of  Fred  and  his  two  com- 
panions blazed.  Captain  Seabright's  horse  fell 
dead.  Four  or  five  other  horses  were  killed  or 
badly  injured,  and  several  of  the  Confederates  were 
disabled  by  being  crushed  by  the  fallen  horses. 
Bewildered  and  confounded,  the  rest  of  the  Confed- 
erates came  to  a  halt. 

From  each  side  of  the  road  came  a  stern  com- 
mand to  surrender.  Then:  "Steady,  boys,  steady! 
Don't  fire  without  orders.  Let  there  be  no  need- 
less slaughter." 

"Surrender!"  cried  the  clear  voice  of  Fred 
again;  "you  are  surrounded." 

Captain  Seabright,  who  had  struggled  to  his 
feet,  hearing  the  commands  to  surrender  coming 
from  both  sides  of  the  road,  as  well  as  in  his  front, 
believed  that  his  command  was  entirely  surrounded 
by  an  overwhelming  force,  and  called  out:  "Don't 
fire!     We  surrender." 

Just  then  the  pursuing  force  came  up.  "Don't 
fire,  don't  fire!"  the  hindmost  Confederates  yelled 
in  desperation,  fearing  they  would  be  fired  upon ; 
"we  have  surrendered." 

"The    h you    have!"     was    the    answer. 

"Whom  have  you  surrendered  to?" 

"Don't  know,  but  we  are  surrounded." 

"They  have  surrendered  to  Captain  Shackel- 
ford's party,"  answered  Darling,  who  had  advanced 
to  meet  the  Federal  officer,  and  in  a  few  words 
explained  the  situation. 


SNAKE   CREEK  GAP.  37 

The  officer  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
but  quickly  ordered  his  men  to  disarm  the  captured 
rebels,  and  be  sure  to  see  that  not  a  single  one 
escaped. 

It  was  not  until  the  prisoners  were  safe  inside  of 
the  Federal  lines  that  they  learned  the  ruse  played 
upon  them.  The  rage  and  chagrin  of  Captain  Sea- 
bright  knew  no  bounds  when  the  truth  was  made 
known  to  him.      He  raved  like  a  madman. 

"Curse  you !"  he  yelled,  shaking  his  fist  at  Fred. 
"I  might  have  known  you  were  a  Yankee  in  dis- 
guise. I  did  suspect  you,  but  like  a  fool  let  you 
go.  But  I  will  be  even  with  you  yet;  I  will  live 
to  see  you  hanged." 

You  are  excited,  Captain, ' '  coolly  replied  Fred  ; 
"but  you  will  have  plenty  of  time  when  you  get  to 
Johnson  Island*  to  cool  off.  But  come  with  me 
now;  I  want  to  give  you  the  honor  of  introducing 
you  to  a  very  distinguished  man,  Major-General 
McPherson  of  the  Federal  army." 

The  captain,  seeing  it  was  folly  to  continue  his 
tirade,  sulkily  rode  with  Fred  to  the  headquarters 
of  General  McPherson. 

"Why,  Captain,"  exclaimed  the  general  when 
he  saw  Fred,  "back  already,  and  with  a  prisoner?" 

"Yes,  General;  and  I  am  happy  to  report  that 
I  have  been  entirely  successful,  and  have  secured 
the  required  information.  The  Gap  is  at  present 
entirely    unguarded,  but   a  brigade   of   cavalry  has 

*An  island  in  Lake  Erie  near  Sandusky,  Ohio,  where  Confederate  officers 
taken  prisoner  were  confined. 


38  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

been  ordered  to  occupy  it,  and  will  be  down  from 
Dalton  some  time  to-morrow.  For  this  valuable 
information  I  am  indebted  to  this  gentleman.  Gen- 
eral, allow  me  to  introduce  Captain  Seabright  of 
the  Twelfth  Mississippi  Cavalry.  He  was  kind 
enough  to  accompany  me,  with  some  fifty  of  his 
men,  into  our  lines." 

"Ah,  Captain  Seabright,  I  am  glad  to  make 
your  acquaintance,"  said  the  general. 

But  Captain  Seabright  proudly  drew  himself  up 
to  his  full  height,  and  haughtily  replied: 

"General  McPherson,  I  am  the  victim  of  a  most 
contemptible  Yankee  trick,  played  upon  me  not  by 
a  gentleman,  but  by  a  spy.  I  despise  any  one  who 
had  any  part  in  any  such  unsoldierly  conduct." 

"Indeed,"  answered  General  McPherson,  with 
a  smile.  "Here,"  turning  to  an  orderly,  "take 
this  gentleman  and  turn  him  over  to  the  provost 
marshal.  I  did  intend  to  entertain  him  myself 
to-night,  but  I  see  my  company  would  not  be 
agreeable." 

The  orderly  took  the  irate  captain  and  marched 
him  away,  and  Fred  never  heard  of  him  again. 
When  he  had  gone,  the  general  turned  to  Fred  and 
asked  him  the  particulars  of  his  trip,  and  how  he 
managed  to  capture  the  captain  with  fifty  of  his 
men. 

After  Fred  had  given  a  full  account  of  what  had 
happened,  he  said:  "General  McPherson,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  Major  Croft,  who  so  promptly  pursued 
the    Confederates    when    they    struck   his    pickets, 


SNAKE   CREEK  GAP.  39 

I  could  never  have  got  away  with  so  many  prison- 
ers.     He  should  have  much  of  the  credit." 

"The  major  shall  receive  due  reward  for  his 
promptness,"  said  McPherson;  "but  to  you,  Cap- 
tain Shackelford,  there  are  no  words  which  I  can 
say  that  will  reward  you  for  the  service  you  have 
performed  this  night.  But  General  Sherman  shall 
know.  Have  you  any  further  orders  from  General 
Sherman?" 

"Yes,  General;  if  I  should  be  successful,  I  was 
to  stay  with  you  in  your  movement  through  the 
Gap,  and  give  you  all  the  aid  possible." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Be  my  guest  for  the 
night.  To-morrow  promises  to  be  a  lively  day  with 
us." 

Darling  was  sent  back  with  dispatches  to  Gen- 
eral Sherman,  telling  him  that  the  Gap  had  been 
found  unguarded,  and  that  Resaca  would  undoubt- 
edly be  captured  some  time  the  next  day.  General 
Sherman  smiled  when  he  read  the  dispatch.  Early 
the  next  morning  he  gave  orders  that  the  Confed- 
erates should  be  heavily  pressed  along  the  front  of 
Rocky  Face,  and  throughout  the  whole  day  the 
battle  roared  and  thundered,  but  it  was  more  noisy 
than  dangerous. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  May  9th  McPherson 
moved  his  army  through  Snake  Creek  Gap  unop- 
posed. As  he  debouched  from  the  eastern  end  of  the 
Gap,  he  met  Debrell's  brigade  of  cavalry,  which  was 
on  its  way  to  defend  it.  The  brigade  was  scattered 
after  a  short  fight,  and  by  two  o'clock  the  Army  of 


4-0  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

the  Tennessee  was  before  Resaca.  But  General 
McPherson  found  it  defended  by  a  larger  force  than 
he  had  expected.  Neither  did  he  find  the  railroad 
as  it  was  laid  down  on  his  map.  It  lay  farther  to 
the  east. 

The  brave  and  gallant  McPherson  now  com- 
mitted the  error  of  his  life.  Fearful  that  if  he 
moved  far  enough  to  the  east  to  seize  the  railroad, 
Johnston  would  throw  his  whole  army  in  between 
him  and  the  Gap,  thus  cutting  him  off  from  the  rest 
of  the  army,  he  ordered  a  retreat  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Gap.  He  was  also  poorly  prepared  for  a  heavy 
engagement,  being  short  both  in  ammunition  and 
provisions ;  so  he  fell  back,  leaving  the  way  open 
for  Johnston  to  retreat. 

When  Fred  heard  the  order  to  fall  back  he  was 
astounded,  but  it  was  not  for  him  to  remonstrate. 
He  saw  that  so  far  as  destroying  the  Confederate 
army  was  concerned  the  movement  was  a  failure ; 
that  what  might  have  been  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
successes  of  the  war  had  come  to  naught.  He 
remembered  how  earnestly  General  Thomas  wanted 
to  make  the  movement,  and  felt  that  if  he  had 
made  it  the  command  to  retire  would  never  have 
been  given.  With  Thomas  and  the  Army  of  the 
Cumberland  where  McPherson  was,  Johnston's 
army  would  have  been  doomed. 

General  McPherson  took  a  strong  position  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Gap,  and  sent  Fred  back  with 
dispatches  to  General  Sherman  telling  him  of  the 
situation. 


SNAKE    CREEK  GAP.  4 1 

It  was  midnight  when  Fred  reached  Sherman's 
headquarters,  but  his  dispatches  were  so  important 
that  the  general  was  aroused,  and   Fred  admitted. 

When  Sherman  read  the  dispatch  a  shade  of  dis- 
appointment came  over  his  face.  Without  a  word 
he  put  the  dispatch  aside,  and  arising,  restlessly 
paced  to  and  fro,  his  hands  locked  behind  him,  his 
head  bowed,  and  apparently  in  deep  thought, 
oblivious  of  any  one  present.  Then  he  suddenly 
turned  to  Fred  and  began  to  deluge  him  with 
questions. 

At  last  Fred  was  dismissed,  but  as  he  turned  to 
go  he  thought  he  heard  General  Sherman  mutter: 
"Too  bad!  too  bad!  But  I  should  have  given 
McPherson  more  positive  orders." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  General  McPherson's 
failure  to  seize  and  hold  the  railroad  near  Resaca 
was  one  of  the  bitterest  disappointments  which 
befell  Sherman  during  the  Atlanta  campaign.  His 
hopes  of  crushing  the  Confederate  army  at  the  very 
commencement  of  the  campaign  were  dispelled. 
Yet  it  was  not  in  his  heart  to  chide  General  McPher- 
son. He  recognized  that  he  himself  was  greatly  to 
blame  for  not  having  given  more  positive  orders.  So 
when  he  met  the  general  all  he  did  was  to  take  him 
by  the  hand  and  say:  "General  McPherson,  I  am 
sorry.  You  missed  a  chance  which  comes  to  no  man 
more  than  once  in  a  lifetime." 

Notwithstanding  his  disappointment,  General 
Sherman  relaxed  none  of  his  energy.  He  at  once 
gave    orders    for    the    bulk    of    his   army   to  move 


42  BATTLING    FOR  ATLANTA. 

through  Snake  Creek  Gap  to  the  support  of 
McPherson,  leaving  only  the  Fourth  Corps  and 
Stoneman's  cavalry  to  confront  Johnston  at  Rocky 
Face.  Thus  General  Sherman,  who  had  refused 
to  let  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  make  the  move- 
ment to  Johnston's  rear,  under  the  plea  that  it 
would  weaken  his  army  too  much,  was  forced  at 
last  to  leave  only  one  corps  in  front  of  the  whole 
Confederate  army  and  run  the  risk  of  its  being 
attacked  and  overwhelmed. 

General  Johnston  discovered  Sherman's  move- 
ment in  force  to  his  rear,  and  on  the  night  of  May 
1 2th  he  evacuated  his  stronghold  on  Rocky  Face 
and  in  the  Buzzard  Roost,  and  fell  back  to  Resaca, 
where  the  two  armies  were  destined  to  meet  in 
battle. 


CHAPTER  III. 

RESACA. 

THAT  the  Confederate  army  had  escaped  with- 
out being  severely  punished  was  a  source  of 
the  deepest  mortification  not  only  to  General  Sher- 
man, but  to  his  entire  army.  Many  were  the  opin- 
ions offered  by  different  members  of  General 
Thomas's  staff  as  they  discussed  the  matter  around 
the  camp-fire,  but  all  agreed  that  if  "Old  Pap"  had 
been  permitted  to  make  the  movement  through 
Snake  Creek  Gap,  the  result  would  have  been  differ- 
ent. The  coming  battle  put  all  vain  regrets  out  of 
their  minds,  and  the  matter  was  hardly  ever  alluded 
to  afterwards. 

By  the  afternoon  of  the  14th  General  Sherman 
had  his  army  well  in  hand  around  Resaca.  General 
Johnston  had  been  reinforced  until  his  army  num- 
bered at  least  seventy  thousand  men.  Everything 
indicated  that  he  intended  to  make  a  desperate 
stand.  The  thunder  of  more  than  a  hundred  can- 
non shook  the  earth,  and  rattling  volleys  of  mus- 
ketry echoed  and  reechoed  among  the  hills.  Most 
of  the  field  was  densely  wooded,  and  in  the  tangled 
thickets  deeds  of  blood  were  enacted  which  the  sun 
did  not  see,  and  of  which  only  those  engaged  knew. 

43 


44  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

It  is  well  that  everbody  in  a  battle  is  too  busy  to 
notice  its  horrors. 

All  along  their  front  the  Confederates  were 
pressed  back  into  their  main  line  of  works.  Even 
these  in  places  were  charged  by  the  gallant  men  of 
the  Armies  of  the  Ohio  and  the  Tennessee,  but 
they  could  not  penetrate  the  morass  and  the  abattis 
in  front  of  the  Confederate  line,  where  they  charged ; 
therefore  they  were  forced  to  fall  back. 

The  left  of  the  Federal  army  was  held  by  Gen- 
eral Stanley's  division  of  the  Fourth  Corps.  It 
had  to  force  its  way  through  thick  woods  and 
tangled  underbrush,  fighting  at  every  step.  There 
was  no  cavalry  on  the  left  to  prevent  the  division 
from  being  flanked  and  surprised.  General 
Thomas  fearing  this,  sent  Fred  with  his  scouts  to 
the  left  to  reconnoiter. 

"This  brush  is  thicker  than  dog-hair,"  growled 
Darling  to  Fred.  "How  does  the  general  expect 
us  to  learn  anything  in  such  a  tangle  as  this?  The 
first  thing  we  know  we  will  run  plump  into  the 
Johnnies,  and  then  good-bye  to  us." 

"It  is  a  precious  good  place  for  the  Johnnies  to 
creep  around  undiscovered,"  replied  Fred.  "Let 
us  go  a  little  farther  to  the  left ;  perhaps  we  shall 
find  the  forest  a  little  more  open." 

Cautiously  making  their  way  to  the  left  of  the 
line  of  firing,  they  stopped  and  listened  intently. 
There  was  no  sound  that  could  be  called  a  sound, 
yet   there   seemed   to   come   through  the  forest  an 


FRED    TOOK    ONE    LONG    LOOK,    AND    THAT    WAS    ENOUGH. 


RESACA.  45 

indefinable  something — a  trembling  in  the  air,  as  if 
the  earth  were  in  an  agony  of  fear 

"Ugh!"  whispered  Darling,  "this  is  uncanny; 
I  seem  to  feel  instead  of  hear  something.  It  is  as 
though  the  forest  were  breathing — actually  throb- 
bing with  life." 

"And  so  it  may  be,"  answered  Fred.  "I  wish 
I  could  see  what  is  in  front;  and  I  mean  to,"  he 
continued,  as  his  eye  fell  on  a  tree  which  towered 
above  its  companions.  "I  am  going  to  climb  that 
tree." 

"Be  careful  some  Johnny  don't  take  you  for 
a  squirrel  and  bring  you  down,"  said  Darling. 

"I  must  run  that  risk,"  replied  Fred;  "so  here 
goes." 

Fred  was  a  good  climber,  and  soon  was  in  the 
topmost  branches  of  the  tree,  but  he  was  careful  to 
keep  the  trunk  between  him  and  the  enemy.  Once 
at  the  top,  Fred  took  one  long  look,  and  that  was 
enough.  Out  in  front  he  could  see  regiment  after 
regiment  of  the  enemy  forming.  Away  off  on  the 
flank  he  caught  a  line  of  gray  stealing  around  in 
the  rear  of  the  Federal  line.  General  Hood  was 
preparing  to  emulate  Stonewall  Jackson  in  one  of 
his  celebrated  flank  movements. 

Just  as  Fred  was  on  the  point  of  descending, 
zip!  came  a  ball  past  his  head.  Some  Confederate 
sharpshooter  had  caught  sight  of  him.  Fred  came 
down  much  faster  than  he  went  up,  but  he  got 
a  ball  through  his  blouse-sleeve  before  he  reached 
the  ground. 


46 


BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 


"It  was  about  time  I  was  out  of  there,"  he  said, 
as  he  glanced  at  his  sleeve.  "That  fellow  shoots 
too  close  for  comfort ;  he  might  manage  to  hit  me. 
But  come,  boys;  there  is  going  to  be  a  hot  time 
around  here  in  a  few  moments." 

Springing  on  their  horses,  they  dashed  through 
the  woods  to  give  warning  of  the  coming  blow. 
Finding  General  Stanley,  Fred 
checked  his  horse  long  enough 
to  say:  "General,  your  flank  is 
about  to  be  attacked.  If  you 
can  hold  your  position  for  a 
short  time,  I  shall  report  the 
situation  to  General  Thomas, 
and  he  will  doubtless  send  you 
reinforcements."  And  he  was 
off  at  full  speed. 

General  Thomas  once 
reached,  Fred  told  his  story  in  a  dozen  words. 
"There,"  replied  General  Thomas,  pointing  to  a 
division  of  soldiers  in  reserve,  "is  General  Wil- 
liams's division  of  the  Twentieth  Corps.  Present 
my  compliments,  and  tell  the  general  to  take  his 
division  to  the  threatened  point  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible— and,  Captain,  you  guide  him." 

Putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  Fred  was  away 
when  the  words  were  hardly  out  of  General 
Thomas's  mouth  to  carry  the  orders  to  General 
Williams.  The  general  received  the  orders,  gave 
a  few  quick,  sharp  commands,  and  the  division 
was    double-quicking  to   the  left.      But  to    Fred, 


GENERAL  THOMAS. 


RES  AC  A.  47 

in  his  excitement,  they  seemed  to  move  all  too 
slowly. 

"Make  haste,  General,"  he  would  say,  "or  they 
will  be  on  our  boys  before  we  can  get  there." 

"The  men  are  doing  all  they  can  now,  Captain. 
They  must  not  be  exhausted  when  we  reach  the 
field  of  action,"  replied  the  general;  but  he  sent 
back  his  aides  to  repeat  the  orders  to  hurry. 

Suddenly  there  came  from  away  over  on  the 
left  that  well-known  cry,  the  rebel  yell,  then  crash- 
ing volleys  of  musketry. 

"The  blow  has  fallen,"  exclaimed  Fred. 

General  Williams  turned  in  his  saddle,  and 
swinging  his  hat,  shouted:  "Come  on,  boys!  come 
on!     The  Twentieth  Corps  to  the  rescue!" 

But  Hooker's  gallant  men  needed  no  urging; 
with  cheers  they  sprang  forward,  remembering 
only  that  their  comrades  were  in  danger. 

The  crashes  of  musketry  grew  less  frequent,  but 
the  rebel  yell  sounded  nearer  and  more  exultant, 
and  there  were  no  answering  Federal  cheers. 

"They  are  driving  our  men,"  groaned  Fred. 
"Why,  our  fellows  are  not  even  firing;  they  are 
fleeing  to  save  themselves.  I  feared  it ;  there  is 
not  a  ghost  of  a  chance  for  them  in  those  thick 
woods." 

All  at  once  the  thunder  of  a  battery  shook  the 
forest.  It  sounded  as  though  twenty  instead  of 
six  cannon  were  belching  forth  their  iron  contents. 
The  panting  soldiers  raised  a  cheer,  and  Fred  swung 
his  hat  and  urged  them  on. 


48  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Soon  scattered  fugitives  were  met,  fleeing  back 
through  the  woods,  then  broken  companies  and 
regiments.  The  two  left  brigades  of  the  army  had 
been  scattered  like  chaff  before  the  wind;  their 
only  safety  lay  in  flight,  and  like  wise  soldiers  they 
ran.  When  they  saw  Hooker's  men  they  raised 
a  mighty  shout,  halted,  and  began  to  rally  around 
their  colors. 

But  the  battery  had  never  ceased  its  thunder. 
Soon  the  advancing  columns  came  on  a  scene  which 
caused  their  blood  to  leap  through  their  veins,  and 
almost  to  drown  the  roar  of  battle  with  their  cheers. 

On  a  slight  knoll,  in  the  edge  of  a  small  cleared 
field,  stood  the  Fifth  Indiana  Battery,  enveloped 
in  a  cloud  of  flame  and  smoke.  Support  it  had 
none,  but  with  each  man  at  his  post,  the  guns, 
double-shotted  with  canister,  were  literally  sweep- 
ing the  enemy  from  the  field.  Time  after  time  had 
the  enemy  essayed  to  cross  that  fatal  field,  only  to 
be  driven  back  with  terrible  slaughter.  That  iron 
hail  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood  could  stand. 
Alone  and  unaided  the  battery  had  checked  the 
charge.  But  the  enemy  were  creeping  around  on 
the  flank,  and  would  soon  have  had  the  battery 
enveloped,  when  Hooker's  men  appeared.  Before 
their  withering  volleys,  the  enemy  fled  back  through 
the  woods  from  which  they  had  driven  the  two 
hapless  brigades.  The  Confederates  were  now  the 
pursued  instead  of  the  pursuers,  and  fled  in  the 
wildest  confusion. 

Fired  with  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  Fred 


RES  AC  A.  49 

plunged  into  the  thickest  of  the  charge.  As  he 
was  making  his  way  through  a  dense  thicket,  he 
was  surprised  to  see  a  Federal  officer  crawl  out  from 
a  thick  growth  of  underbrush  which  grew  by  the 
side  of  a  log.  The  officer  was  holding  by  the  col- 
lar a  long,  lank  rebel  soldier,  who  was  shivering  as 
though  he  had  an  ague  fit. 

Rising  to  his  feet,  the  officer  addressed  himself 
to  his  prisoner.  "Straighten  up  now,  Johnny,"  he 
exclaimed,  in  mock  commanding  tones.  "Take 
a  soldierly  position  and  salute  your  superior." 

"Hugh  Raymond,  as  I  live,"  shouted  Fred. 
"Captain  Raymond,  how  in  the  world  did  you 
come  burrowing  under  that  log  like  a  rabbit? 
Valiant  Captain  Raymond  of  all  men,  he  who  was 
one  of  the  first  to  plant  his  flag  on  Missionary  Ridge 
and  win  a  captain's  straps.  Oh,  Hugh,  Hugh! 
what  a  figure  you  cut!"  And  Fred  fairly  shook  with 
laughter. 

The  officer  addressed  as  Captain  Raymond  surely 
did  present  a  comical  figure.  His  hat  was  gone, 
his  uniform  torn  and  covered  with  dirt  and  leaves, 
his  sword  was  gone  and  the  scabbard  bent  nearly 
double,  and  his  face  was  scratched  and  bleeding  in 
several  places.  He  was  as  young  as  Fred  and  had 
a  more  boyish  look. 

"Look  here,  Fred  Shackelford,"  answered  the 
young  captain,  with  a  comical  grimace,  "don't  be 
too  fast.  Just  see  my  trophy.  Here,  Reb, 
straighten  up;  look  your  best.  Can't  you  keep 
those  infernal  teeth  of  yours  from  chattering  long 


50  ,         BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

enough  to  say  'Good  evening'?  Let  me  introduce 
you  to  Captain  Frederic  Shackelford  of  General 
Thomas's  staff.  It's  good  company  you  are  get- 
ting into,  Reb — the  best  you  ever  met." 

"How  in  the  world  did  you  come  to  get  into 
such  a  fix,  Hugh?"  asked  Fred. 

"Oh,  you  see  I  was  in  command  of  the  skir- 
mishers, and  the  first  thing  I  knew,  the  woods  in 
front  just  swarmed  with  rebels.  I  gave  the  com- 
mand to  retreat,  but  there  was  no  need,  for  as 
I  turned  around  I  only  caught  sight  of  the  boys 
scudding  through  the  woods  like  so  many  wild  tur- 
keys. I  was  all  alone  and  nearly  surrounded.  The 
rebs  commenced  yelling  to  me  to  surrender,  but 
I  had  no  notion  of  trying  the  fare  of  a  rebel  prison, 
and  I  took  after  the  boys.  Run!  The  sprinting 
I  did  would  have  done  honor  to  a  professional. 
The  whole  rebel  army  shot  at  me — ' ' 

"Hold  on,  Hugh;  make  it  a  few  less." 

"Well,  that  is  the  way  it  appeared  to  me.  One 
bullet  struck  my  sword,  broke  it,  and  bent  the 
scabbard  as  you  see.  Another  one  knocked  my 
hat  off.  But  I  distanced  them,  and  was  congratu- 
lating myself  on  my  escape  when  my  toe  caught 
under  a  root,  and  I  plunged  head  first  into  that 
thicket.  There  was  a  depression  in  the  ground 
under  the  log,  and  I  rolled  into  it.  The  log  and 
thicket  screened  me,  and  the  rebs  passed  without 
noticing  me.  Here  I  was  once  more  in  the  rear  of 
the  Confederate  army,  just  as  we  were  when  we 
had  to  roost  in  that  tree.     The  woods  were  full  of 


RES  AC  A.  51 

rebels.  I  could  hear  them  running  and  shouting, 
and  I  durst  not  wiggle  for  fear  of  being  discovered. 
Then  some  one  plunged  headlong  into  the  thicket, 
and  to  my  surprise  this  Johnny  came  creeping  up 
close  to  me.  One  glance  told  me  he  was  a  skulker, 
and  quaking  with  fear.  He  was  so  frightened  he 
did  not  even  notice  I  was  a  Yank,  so  I  kept  still. 
I  knew  my  only  salvation  was  in  having  the  rebels 
driven  back.  When  that  battery  opened,  the  rebs 
didn't  yell  quite  so  briskly,  and  I  began  to  hope 
they  would  be  driven  back.  Then  when  those  vol- 
leys came  and  I  heard  our  men  cheering,  I  could 
hardly  keep  still  from  whooping  myself." 

"That  was  Hooker's  men,"  broke  in  Fred. 
"I  tell  you  they  went  in  with  a  rush." 

"Hooker,  was  it?  Well,  bully  for  Hooker. 
Sure  enough  in  a  little  while  back  came  the  rebs, 
like  so  many  stampeded  Texan  steers.  When 
I  was  sure  they  had  all  passed,  I  said  to  Johnny 
here:  'Time  to  get  out;  come,  get  a  move  on 
you.' 

"You  ought  to  have  seen  his  eyes  open. 
'Yo-uns — yo-uns  a  Yank?'  he  stammered. 

"  'Of  course  I  am  a  Yank;  now  get,'  and  I  pulled 
my  revolver;  and  the  way  he  crawled  from  out  that 
bush  was  a  caution.  Eh !  Johnny,  how  do  you 
feel?" 

"All  right,"  responded  the  rebel,  who  by  this 
time  had  pulled  himself  together.  "Mighty  glad 
yo-uns  a  Yank.  I  won't  have  to  fight  eny  mo'. 
Captain  jes'  swore  he  would  shoot  me  if  I  run  in 


52  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

'nother  fight.  Reckon  he  thought  I  wuz  shot  when 
I  went  head  fust  in  that  air  bush.  That's  the  time 
I  fooled  'em." 

"He  is  a  brave  one,  Hugh,"  laughed  Fred. 
"You  should  write  to  Kate  telling  her  what  a  des- 
perate fight  you  had  to  take  him.  Perhaps  she 
would  relent.  Do  you  ever  hear  from  Kate 
now?" 

Hugh's  brow  clouded.  "Fred,"  he  exclaimed, 
"have  all  the  fun  you  can,  but  I  wish  I  had  never 
seen  that  cousin  of  yours.  I  was  fool  enough  to 
write  to  her,  and  guess  what  was  her  reply?" 

"That  she  would  be  proud  to  correspond  with 
so  gallant  a  soldier  as  Captain  Hugh  Raymond." 

"Proud!"  replied  Hugh,  wearily.  "She  wrote, 
'I  do  not  wish  to  correspond  with  Yankees.'  " 

"Of  course  you  obeyed?" 

Hugh  sighed.      "There  was  a  postscript." 

"Oh,  what  was  it?" 

"  'If  you  get  killed,  I  will  put  posies  on  your 
grave.' 

"Poor  Hugh!  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  let  that  fire- 
brand alone?" 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  answered  Hugh;  "the 
smart  of  a  wound  in  love  is  to  be  preferred  to  cold- 
ness. Don't  worry  over  me.  I  kind  of  like  it. 
Come,  Johnny  (to  the  reb),  let's  be  going.  You 
are  my  only  hope  and  salvation.  You  have  saved 
my  credit.  How  long  was  it  I  had  to  fight  before 
I  captured  you?  Half  an  hour,  wasn't  it?  Oh, 
Johnny,    you   are  a  jewel,   you  are.      So  march." 


RESACA.  53 

And  Captain  Raymond  started  back  with  his  pris- 
oner. 

It  was  now  dark,  and  Fred  rode  back  to  make 
his  report  to  General  Thomas. 

"We  were  just  in  time,  General,"  reported 
Fred,  "to  save  the  flank.  The  enemy  had  it  com- 
pletely turned  when  Williams's  division  arrived. 
But  they  went  scurrying  back  in  quick  time  when 
we  raised  the  cheer  and  charged  them." 

"I  am  glad,"  quietly  responded  General 
Thomas,  "that  you  were  in  time.  You  deserve 
honorable  mention  for  so  promptly  reporting  the 
situation.  It  would  have  been  very  awkward  for 
us  to  have  had  our  flank  turned." 

"General,"  and  Fred's  eyes  kindled  as  he  said 
it,  "I  want  to  say  a  word  for  the  Fifth  Indiana 
Battery.  We  found  it  entirely  unsupported,  but 
every  man  stood  at  his  post,  and  the  way  that  bat- 
tery was  pouring  canister  into  the  rebels  was  glori- 
ous— glorious!  I  never  knew  a  battery  could  fire 
so  fast." 

"Captain  Simonson  is  a  very  brave  man — none 
braver.  It  is  just  what  I  would  expect  of  him," 
was  all  the  reply  the  general  made. 

That  night  both  armies  spent  in  fortifying  and 
preparing  for  the  struggle  that  was  to  come  on  the 
morrow.  The  next  morning  the  rest  of  Hooker's 
corps  and  the  Army  of  the  Ohio  were  moved  to  the 
left. 

All  through  the  day  cannon  roared  and  musketry 
rattled,  but  there  was  no  severe  fighting  until  about 


54  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  Hooker 
formed  his  columns  and  made  a  charge  on  a  four- 
gun  battery  which  occupied  a  lunette  in  front  of 
the  enemy's  main  works. 

The  charge  was  a  desperate  one,  and  for  a  time 
doubtful,  but  at  last  the  gunners  were  forced  from 
their  pieces  and  the  battery  captured.  But  the 
rebels  sprang  over  their  works,  and  a  hand-to-hand 
conflict  took  place  over  the  guns.  In  turn  the  Fed- 
erals were  forced  back,  but  took  refuge  behind  the 
parapet  which  protected  the  guns,  and  held  their 
position.  When  night  came  the  guns  were  taken 
possession  of  by  the  Federals.  Around  that  bat- 
tery one  could  have  walked  on  dead  men.* 

Farther  to  the  left  of  the  battery  the  fight  raged 
in  all  its  fury.  The  Army  of  the  Ohio  in  its  ad- 
vance met  the  cohorts  of  Hood  and  drove  them  in 
confusion  from  the  field.  Night  was  now  approach- 
ing, and  the  fiery  Hood  marshaled  his  forces  to 
make  one  more  effort  to  stay  the  Federal  advance; 
but  just  as  he  was  ready  to  charge,  an  aide  of  Gen- 
eral Johnston  dashed  up  and  handed  him  a  dispatch. 
He  read  it,  and  groaned.  It  was  an  order  from 
General  Johnston  to  cease  all  aggressive  movements, 
to  hold  his  lines  until  night,  and  then  to  fall  back 
in  retreat. 

"General  McPherson's  forces,"  so  read  the  dis- 
patch, "have  captured  a  hill  from  which  his  artil- 
lery commands  the  railroad  as  well  as  the  wagon 

*In  the  thickest  of  this  charge  was  a  future  President  of  the  United 
States,  Benjamin  Harrison. 


RESACA.  55 

bridge  over  the  Oostanaula.  In  vain  have  the  forces 
of  General  Polk  tried  to  retake  the  hill.  It  is  now 
so  strongly  fortified  that  it  is  impossible.  Not 
only  this,  but  a  large  force  from  the  Army  of  the 
Tennessee  is  crossing  the  river  at  Lay's  Ferry,  and 
is  already  driving  our  cavalry  back  on  Calhoun. 
Our  communications  will  be  in  their  possession  by 
another  day.  Our  only  safety  lies  in  rapid  retreat." 
So  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  the  Confederate 
army  once  more  fell  back,  leaving  the  hard-fought 
field  to  the  Federals.* 

♦The  battle  of  Resacacame  nearer  being  a  general  engagement,  that  is. 
a  battle  in  which  the  whole  army  was  engaged,  than  any  other  battle  of  the 
campaign.  General  Sherman's  losses  in  the  battle  were  between  four  and 
five  thousand.    The  Confederate  losses  were  nearly  as  great. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   BATTLE   THAT   WAS    NEVER    FOUGHT. 

IT  was  long  past  midnight  before  the  battlefield  of 
Resaca  grew  silent ;  for  to  cover  their  retreat 
the  Confederates  put  up  a  bold  front,  and  to  all 
appearances  they  intended  to  renew  the  battle  on 
the  coming  day.  So  thought  the  Federal  soldiers 
as  they  sank  on  the  ground  to  secure  a  few  minutes 
of  repose.  But  the  gray  of  the  dawn  revealed  that 
the  enemy  was  gone. 

Screened  from  the  Federals  by  the  woods  and 
hills  as  the  morning  broke,  a  long  line  of  gray 
silently  filed  across  a  pontoon  bridge  thrown  over 
a  swift-flowing  river.  For  two  days  those  gray- 
coated  veterans  had  been  fighting  for  their  exist- 
ence, and  the  night  had  brought  them  no  rest,  for 
they  were  in  retreat.  Sullen,  but  grim  and  un- 
daunted, they  marched. 

Two  generals  high  in  command  sat  on  their 
horses  watching  the  army  as  it  filed  over  the  sway- 
ing bridge.  They  had  frowning  batteries  planted 
so  as  to  beat  back  the  Federals  if  they  appeared. 

Just  as  the  sun  arose,  lighting  up  the  scene,  the 
last  of  the  line  had  crossed.  The  batteries  limbered 
up,  and  joined  the  moving  columns. 

56 


A   BATTLE    THAT    WAS  NEVER  FOUGHT.     57 

Then  one  of  the  generals  devoutly  raised  his 
eyes  to  heaven,  and  exclaimed:  "Thank  God,  the 
danger  is  past.  The  army  has  been  saved  as  by 
a  miracle." 

The  speaker  was  Lieutenant-General  Leonidas 
Polk.  At  the  beginning  of  the  war,  though  edu- 
cated at  West  Point,  he  was  a  bishop  of  the  Prot- 
estant Episcopal  Church.  When  the  war-clouds 
gathered,  he  laid  aside  the  gown  and  grasped  his 
sword,  and  was  now  one  of  the  most  trusted  of  the 
Confederate  generals. 

The  officer  addressed  was  Lieutenant-General 
J.  B.  Hood,  another  of  Johnston's  corps  com- 
manders. 

"It  is  indeed  a  miracle  that  we  have  escaped 
from  a  trap  in  which  we  should  never  have  been 
placed,"  replied  General  Hood;  "and  we  never 
would  have  escaped,  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  furi- 
ous onslaught  on  the  enemy  yesterday.  It  made 
Sherman  believe  we  were  going  to  make  a  stand  to 
the  last.      Now  it  is  retreat  again." 

"You  do  not  believe  in  retreating,  I  believe," 
said  General  Polk,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"Only  from  such  a  cul-de-sac  as  the  one  from 
which  we  have  just  escaped,  a  position  in  which  we 
never  should  have  been  placed.  We  should  have 
assumed  the  offensive  from  Dalton.  That  is  what 
I  expected,  and  what  I  was  told  would  be  the  pro- 
gramme when  I  accepted  a  command  in  this  army. 
I  should  never  have  accepted  it,  if  I  had  thought 
otherwise,     It     is    now    'retreat,     retreat,'    when 


58  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

I  was  told  that  'advance'  would  be  the  motto  of 
General  Johnston.  There  can  be  but  one  end  to 
this  retreating — the  discouragement  and  ultimate 
disintegration  of  the  army." 

"There  is  much  that  can  be  said  on  both  sides," 
replied  General  Polk,  musingly;  "but  I  trust 
a  decisive  battle  will  be  fought  before  long.  Sher- 
man in  some  of  his  movements 
must  surely  throw  himself  open 
to  attack." 

"Will  such  an  opportu- 
nity be  taken  advantage  of?" 
snapped  Hood,  spitefully. 

"I  sincerely  trust  so,"  re- 
sponded Polk;  and  bidding 
General  Hood  good-day,  he 
rode  slowly  away. 

On  the  plain  near  Adairs- 
ville  General  Johnston  marshaled  his  army  for 
battle;  but  the  position  did  not  suit  him,  and  he 
fell  back  toward  Cassville. 

In  his  pursuit  General  Sherman  divided  his  army, 
each  flank  being  separated  from  the  center  by  an 
interval  of  from  six  to  eight  miles. 

It  was  General  Johnston's  opportunity,  and  he 
attempted  to  turn  it  to  his  advantage.  General 
Hood  advised  him  to  give  battle  near  Adairsville, 
but  Johnston  thought  it  best  to  concentrate  his 
army  at  Cassville  and  give  battle  at  or  near  that 
place.  He  reasoned  that  after  leaving  Adairs- 
ville   the     Federal    army  would    be    more    widely 


GENERAL  JOHNSTON. 


A    BATTLE    THAT    WAS  NEVER  FOUGHT.    59 

divided  than  ever,  and  in  this  he  reasoned  cor- 
rectly. 

When  he  retreated  from  Adairsville  he  so  man- 
aged it  that  General  Sherman  was  led  to  believe 
that  he  had  fallen  back  on  Kingston,  and  Sherman 
moved  his  army  with  that  understanding.  Thus 
Johnston  had  his  whole  army  massed  against  the 
extreme  left,  and  could  have  thrown  his  entire  force 
on  the  Army  of  the  Ohio.  He  waited  one  day  too 
long. 

The  evening  of  May  18th  found  the  entire  Con- 
federate army  massed  before  Cassville.  General 
Johnston  now  announced  his  intention  of  giving 
battle,  and  issued  an  address  to  his  soldiers  to  that 
effect.     To  General  Hood  he  said: 

"The  time  you  have  been  looking  for  has  come. 
Sherman's  army  is  divided.  His  left  flank  is  his 
weakest  point,  and  to  you  I  give  the  post  of  respon- 
sibility. To-morrow  advance  your  corps  out  on 
the  Canton  road,  and  as  soon  as  you  hear  the  roar 
of  Polk's  guns,  attack  Schofield  on  flank  and  in  rear. 
Strike  swift  and  sure." 

The  opportunity  for  which  General  Hood  had 
been  looking  had  come,  but  he  utterly  failed  in  the 
execution.  After  marching  out  about  three  miles, 
his  flank  was  suddenly  fired  into  by  what  Hood 
reported  to  be  a  large  force  of  infantry,  but  which 
in  reality  was  McCook's  brigade  of  cavalry. 

Hood  halted,  changed  front  to  the  right,  and 
engaged  the  cavalry,  but  he  actually  fell  back 
a  short  distance.     General  Johnston  waited  in  vain 


60  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

for  the  sound  of  battle  from  Hood's  front,  and  at 
last  sent  General  Mackall,  his  chief  of  staff,  to  see 
why  Hood  had  not  attacked. 

General  Mackall  found  Hood's  forces  standing 
still,  a  slight  skirmish  being  in  progress  on  his 
right.  Very  much  excited,  General  Mackall  de- 
manded of  Hood  why  he  had  not  kept  pace  with 
General  Polk,  so  that  that  general  could  give 
battle. 

General  Hood  pointed  to  his  right,  and  said  if 
he  had  advanced  farther  the  enemy  would  have 
been  in  his  rear. 

While  this  was  going  on,  General  Hardee,  who 
was  in  command  of  the  Confederate  left,  advanced 
his  corps  in  magnificent  line  of  battle,  and  was  sud- 
denly confronted  by  the  Fourth  and  Fourteenth 
Corps. 

When  General  Mackall  reported  to  Johnston  the 
situation  on  the  right,  he  saw  that  his  whole  plan 
of  battle  had  miscarried,  and  he  ordered  his  army 
back  to  their  intrenchments  in  the  rear  of  Cassville, 
intending  to  give  battle  the  next  day. 

But  that  night  there  was  a  stormy  scene  at  the 
Confederate  headquarters.  Generals  Hood  and 
Polk  both  reported  that  the  positions  assigned  them 
in  the  intrenchments  were  untenable,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  Federal  artillery  had  an  enfilading 
fire  on  them. 

"General  Hood,"  remarked  Johnston,  sarcas- 
tically, "you  are  the  general  who  has  been  so  eager 
to    fight,   and    who  has    criticised   me  so  severely 


A    BATTLE    THAT    WAS  NEVER  FOUGHT.     6 1 

because  I  have  not  risked  a  general  engagement. 
Now  that  I  propose  to  fight,  you  are  the  first  of 
my  generals  to  object." 

"I  believe,"  answered  General  Hood,  haughtily, 
"in  an  offensive,  not  a  defensive  campaign." 

"Why  didn't  you  fight  to-day,  then,  as  I  com- 
manded? It  was  your  failure  to  attack  that 
brought  my  whole  plan  of  battle  to  naught." 

"This  is  the  first  time,"  tartly  replied  General 
Hood,  "that  I  have  had  knowledge  that  you 
intended  to  fight  a  general  engagement  to-day. 
I  asked  and  received  your  permission  to  attack. 
I  had  no  knowledge  of  what  your  orders  to  the 
other  corps  commanders  were." 

"That  is  a  strange  statement,  General  Hood. 
Do  you  think  I  intended  to  let  your  corps  fight  the 
battle  alone  and  unaided?  But  there  will  be  no 
misunderstanding  for  to-morrow.  I  intend  to 
fight." 

"  How,  General?" 

"By  awaiting  an  attack  in  my  intrenchments," 
was  the  reply  of  General  Johnston. 

"General  Johnston,"  earnestly  replied  Hood, 
"I  protest.  I  have  told  you — General  Polk  has 
told  you — that  our  part  of  the  line  is  enfiladed  by 
the  Federal  artillery.  There  are  portions  of  the 
line  that  cannot  be  held  an  hour.  If  you  will  let 
me  attack  in  the  morning,  I  will  most  willingly 
engage  in  battle;   not  otherwise." 

With  his  voice  trembling  with  emotion,  General 
Johnston   replied:   "General    Hood,    the   safety   of 


62  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

this  army  is  intrusted  to  me.  By  morning  the 
Federals  will  be  strongly  fortified.  It  would  be 
madness  to  attack  them.  I  cannot,  will  not,  order 
it.      General  Hardee,  what  do  you  say?" 

"That  I  can  hold  my  line  against  any  force  the 
Yankees  can  bring  against  it,"  replied  that  bluff  old 
soldier. 

"And  you,  Generals  Hood  and  Polk?" 

"We  are  still  of  the  opinion  that  we  cannot  hold 
our  lines,"  was  the  answer  of  both.* 

General  Johnston  mused  a  moment,  and  then 
said:  "Gentlemen,  I  cannot  engage  in  battle 
against  the  protest  of  two  of  my  corps  command- 
ers. I  shall  at  once  order  a  retreat  beyond  the 
Etowah." 

Let  us  now  return  to  Fred  and  the  Federal  army. 
The  battle  of  Resaca  was  decidedly  in  favor  of 
the  Federals. 

"If  Johnston  remains  in  his  present  position 
twenty-four  hours  longer,"  said  General  Thomas 
to  his  staff  on  the  evening  of  the  last  day's  fight, 
"the  fate  of  his  army  is  sealed." 

"But  will  he  stay?"  asked  his  chief  of  staff. 

"I  am  afraid  not,"  answered  Thomas;  "but  he 
put  up  a  stiff  fight  to-day,  and  so  far  he  has  shown 
no  signs  of  retreating  to-night." 

General  Thomas's  fears  were  well  grounded,  for, 
as  we  have  seen,  the   Confederate  army  retreated 

♦These  generals  had  good  reasons  for  their  fears,  but  General  Johnston 
was  right  in  refusing  to  attack  the  Federal  intrenchments. 


A   BATTLE    THAT    WAS   NEVER  FOUGHT.    63 

during  the  night — escaped,  as  General  Polk  said, 
as  by  a  miracle.  General  Sherman  lost  no  time  in 
ordering  a  swift  pursuit. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  16th  General 
Thomas  handed  Fred  a  dispatch,  saying,  "Here 
is  a  dispatch  which  I  wish  delivered  to  General 
Jefferson  C.  Davis  as  soon  as  possible." 

It  was  an  order  for  General  Davis  to  take  his 
division,  make  a  detour  to  the  right,  and  then 
march  directly  on  Rome.  Thus  General  Sherman 
was  deprived  for  the  time  of  this  division,  number- 
ing at  least  seven  thousand  men. 

In  the  pursuit  of  the  Confederate  army  Fred  and 
his  scouts  were  continually  at  the  front  trying  to 
gain  information  of  Johnston's  intentions. 

"From  what  I  can  learn,"  reported  Fred  to 
General  Thomas,  "I  believe  Johnston  intends 
making  a  stand  a  little  this  side  of  Adairsville. 
I  know  he  has  concentrated  his  whole  army.  From 
the  top  of  a  tall  tree  on  the  summit  of  a  hill  I  was 
enabled,  by  the  aid  of  my  glass,  to  scan  the  country 
in  front  pretty  thoroughly.  There  is  a  heavy  line 
of  breastworks  thrown  up  across  the  entire  valley, 
but  the  country  is  open  on  the  left,  and  the  posi- 
tion can  easily  be  flanked." 

Just  then  there  came  the  sound  of  conflict,  and 
General  Thomas  rode  to  the  front,  and  found  that 
the  rear  guard  of  the  retreating  army  was  making 
a  stubborn  stand,  and  it  was  dark  before  they  were 
driven  from  their  position. 

That    night .  the   army  was  concentrated    before 


d\  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Adairsville  in  expectation  of  the  coming  battle,  but 
when  morning  came  it  was  found  that  the  enemy 
had  again  retreated. 

Everything  indicated  that  the  main  body  of  the 
Confederates  had  fallen  back  on  Kingston,  and 
General  Sherman  advanced  his  army  with  that 
understanding.  Kingston  lies  south  of  Adairsville, 
while  Cassville  lies  southeast. 

Fred  came  to  General  Thomas  and  said:  "Gen- 
eral, everything  indicates  that  the  main  body  of  the 
Confederates  has  fallen  back  on  Cassville,  instead 
of  Kingston.  If  this  is  true,  it  brings  Schofield  in 
grave  danger,  for  he  will  be  confronted  by  the  entire 
rebel  army." 

"What  makes  you  think  Johnston  fell  back  on 
Cassville  instead  of  Kingston?"  asked  the  general. 

"Because  everything  shows  that  great  pains  were 
taken  to  make  the  trail  leading  to  Kingston  as  broad 
and  as  plain  as  possible.  Then  I  find  by  consult- 
ing the  map  that  the  railroad  turns  and  runs  directly 
east  from  Kingston,  and  by  making  a  stand  at  that 
place  Johnston  would  expose  his  railroad  communi- 
cations to  a  flank  attack.  For  these  reasons  I  be- 
lieve Johnston's  army  is  at  Cassville  instead  of 
Kingston." 

So  impressed  was  General  Thomas  by  what  Fred 
said  that  after  consultation  with  General  Sherman 
he  ordered  General  Hooker  to  move  on  the  direct 
road  from  Adairsville  to  Cassville,  thus  placing  him 
in  supporting  distance  of  Schofield. 

"Dick,"  said  Fred  to  his  lieutenant,  Dick  Dar- 


A   BATTLE    THAT    WAS  NEVER  FOUGHT.     65 

ling,  "if  General  Johnston  ever  expects  to  fight 
a  general  engagement,  to-day  is  his  opportunity. 
The  way  the  army  is  moving,  the  Army  of  the 
Tennessee  would  be  entirely  out  of  the  fight. 
McPherson  would  be  at  least  twelve  or  fourteen 
miles  from  where  the  battle  would  be  fought. 
For  some  hours  Schofield  and  Hooker  would  have 
to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  attack  alone." 

"Then  you  think  if  Johnston  attacks,  it  will  be 
on  our  left  flank?"  asked  Darling. 

"Of  course;  where  else  could  he  attack,  with  his 
army  at  Cassville?" 

"Well,  I  reckon  Schofield  and  Fighting  Joe 
would  hold  Johnston  level  until  Sherman  could 
get  the  rest  of  us  there,"  answered  Darling. 

And  that  is  just  what  Sherman  thought.  So 
eager  was  he  for  battle  that  he  was  willing  to  take 
some  risks. 

But  the  day  passed  without  battle,  and  the 
night  found  General  Thomas  within  four  miles  of 
Kingston,  and  Schofield  about  eight  miles  from 
Cassville. 

The  next  morning,  the  19th  of  May,  General 
Thomas's  advance  entered  Kingston,  skirmishing 
briskly  with  the  enemy.  Now  it  was  known  that 
Fred's  surmises  were  correct,  and  that  the  Confed- 
erate army  was  at  Cassville. 

Making  a  left  wheel,  General  Thomas  marched 
his  army  directly  for  Cassville.  For  two  miles  his 
soldiers  had  to  force  their  way  through  a  thick 
jungle,  and   their  progress  was  slow.      Coming  out 


66  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

of  the  wood,  a  broad  extensive  plain  opened  up  to 
view.  Here  a  sight  met  the  gaze  of  the  soldiers 
which  caused  the  blood  to  leap  through  their  veins. 
Before  them  lay  one  of  the  most  beautiful  portions 
of  Georgia.  For  miles  the  undulating  plain 
stretched  out  before  them,  smiling  in  verdure,  rich 
with  growing  grain.  But  it  was  not  on  the  land- 
scape the  soldiers  gazed.  Two  miles  before  them 
stood  the  Confederate  army  drawn  up  in  magnifi- 
cent battle  array;  and  as  they  looked,  that  army 
commenced   advancing  as  steadily  as  if  on  parade. 

Fred  sat  on  his  horse  fascinated  by  the  sight. 
Was  a  battle  to  be  fought  on  this  open  plain,  where 
the  movements  of  armies  could  be  seen,  and  mili- 
tary genius  win  the  day? 

Already  the  skirmishers  were  engaged,  and  Fred 
rode  forward  with  his  scouts,  his  quick  eye  scan- 
ning the  field  in  his  front.  He  greatly  desired  to 
capture  some  prisoners  to  see  if  he  could  learn  the 
meaning  of  the  battle  array  before  him.  He 
noticed  a  slight  depression  in  the  ground,  which  led 
through,  then  behind  the  Confederate  skirmish-line, 
nearly  paralleling  it.  Fred  saw  that  by  a  quick 
dash  he  might  be  able  to  cut  off  some  of  the  skir- 
mishers, and  giving  a  sharp  word  of  command,  he 
led  his  little  company  directly  toward  the  enemy's 
lines. 

"Thunder!"  exclaimed  Captain  Hugh  Ray- 
mond, who  was  again  in  command  of  the  Federal 
skirmishers;  "it's  that  dare-devil  Shackelford.  He 
is  going  to  charge  the  whole  rebel  army." 


ABOUT    FIFTEEN    OR    TWENTY    FOUND    THEMSELVES    CUT    OFF. 


A   BATTLE    THAT    WAS  NEVER  FOUGHT.    67 

Then  it  flashed  upon  Hugh  what  Fred  was  try- 
ing to  do.  "Boys,"  he  cried,  "he  is  going  to  try 
to  cut  off  those  rebel  skirmishers  on  that  rise  of 
ground.  We  can  help  him.  Charge!"  and  with 
a  ringing  cheer,  Hugh  and  his  men  dashed  forward. 

There  was  a  crackling  and  sputtering  of  mus- 
ketry, and  then  the  Confederate  picket-line  was  in 
full  retreat.  But  about  fifteen  or  twenty  found 
themselves  cut  off  by  Fred  and  his  men,  and  they 
threw  down  their  arms  and  cried  for  quarter. 

"Well  done,  Fred,"  shouted  Hugh,  after  the 
little  skirmish  was  over.  "You  took  those  fellows 
in  nicely  out  of  the  wet." 

Dismounting,  Fred  gave  his  hand  to  Hugh,  say- 
ing: "I  want  to  thank  you,  Captain,  for  your 
opportune  help.  It  saved  me  from  serious  loss  and 
made  my  task  easy.  But  let  us  see  what  we  have 
learned,  and  what  we  can  learn.  Sergeant,"  to  one 
of  his  men,  "bring  that  captain  here,"  and  he 
pointed  to  one  of  the  prisoners  who  wore  a  cap- 
tain's bars  on  his  collar. 

The  sergeant  did  as  commanded.  "Captain," 
asked  Fred,  politely,  "can  you  tell  me  the  mean- 
ing of  this  array  before  us?  Does  it  mean  a 
battle?" 

"You  will  find  out  soon  enough  without  my 
telling  you,"  replied  the  captain,  surlily. 

"Sergeant,  search  him,"  said  Fred;  "return  all 
his  private  property,  but  see  if  you  cannot  find 
something  that  may  enlighten  us." 

The  captain   protested   against   his  person  being 


68  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

searched,  but  that  did  not  prevent  the  sergeant  from 
going  carefully  through  his  pockets. 

"There .is  nothing,  Captain,"  at  last  exclaimed 
the  sergeant,  "unless  it  is  this  little  folded  paper 
which  I  found  in  his  pocketbook." 

"Give  him  back  everything  else,  and  let  me  see 
the  paper." 

Fred  took  the  paper,  unfolded  it,  and  a  pro- 
longed "Whew!"  escaped  him  as  he  glanced  at  it. 
This  is  what  Fred  read : 

General  Orders  )  Headquarters, 

No. .         \  Army  of  Tennessee, 

Cassville,  Ga.,  May  19,  1864. 

Soldiers  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee,  you  have  displayed  the 
highest  qualities  of  the  soldier — firmness  in  combat,  patience 
under  toil.  By  your  courage  and  skill  you  have  repulsed  every 
assault  of  the  enemy.  By  marches  by  day  and  by  marches  by 
night,  you  have  defeated  every  attempt  upon  your  communica- 
tions. Your  communications  are  secured.  You  will  now  turn 
and  march  to  meet  his  advancing  columns.  Fully  confiding  in 
the  conduct  of  the  officers,  the  courage  of  the  soldiers,  I  lead 
you  to  battle. 

We  may  confidently  trust  that  the  Almighty  Father  will 
still  reward  the  patriots'  toils,  and  bless  the  patriots'  banner. 
Cheered  by  the  success  of  our  brothers  in  Virginia  and  beyond 
the  Mississippi,  our  efforts  will  equal  theirs.  Strengthened  by 
this  support,  those  efforts  will  be  crowned  with  the  like  glories. 

J.  E.  Johnston,  General. 

"That  means  fight,"  muttered  Fred;  and  mount- 
ing Prince,  he  was  off  like  an  arrow  for  General 
Thomas. 

"Read  this,  please,  General!  Johnston  intends 
to  fight,"  Fred  breathlessly  exclaimed,  placing 
Johnston's  proclamation  in  the  general's  hands. 


A   BATTLE    THAT    WAS  NEVER  FOUGHT.     69 

General  Thomas  read  the  proclamation  through 
carefully,  and  then  said:  "Captain,  this  is  good 
news;  it  is  just  what  General  Sherman  desires;  but 
the  army  should  be  concentrated  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible. Take  this  order  to  General  Sherman  as 
quickly  as  your  horse  will  carry  you.  You  will 
find  him  at  Kingston." 

"But,  General,  how  about  this  force  in  front?" 

General  Thomas  glanced  toward  the  Confederate 
lines.  "I  see  they  have  halted.  I  think  that  dis- 
play is  made  to  attract  our  attention,  while  the  real 
attack  will  be  made  on  the  left.  Tell  General 
Sherman  he  need  have  no  fear  of  the  center." 

A  moment  more  and  Prince  was  racing  for 
Kingston,  and  as  Fred  rode  he  heard  the  roar  of 
Thomas's  cannon  as  they  opened  on  the  enemy. 

General  Sherman  was  just  remarking  to  one  of 
his  staff,  "From  the  sound  of  his  artillery,  General 
Thomas  must  have  found  the  enemy,"  when  Fred 
dashed  up. 

The  general's  face  lighted  up  as  he  read  Johns- 
ton's boastful  words.  A  battle  was  just  what  he 
desired.  "Where  did  you  get  this,  Captain?"  asked 
the  general,  after  he  had  finished  reading  the 
proclamation.      Fred  gave  him  the  particulars. 

"Well  done,  Captain.  A  word  with  you  in 
a  moment." 

Then  turning  to  his  aides,  he  gave  them  some 
orders,  and  soon  they  were  riding  as  for  life  to 
McPherson,  to  Hooker,  to  Schofield,  with  orders 
to  close  up  on  Thomas,  and  with   further  orders  to 


70  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Schofield  and  Hooker  to  be  prepared  for  an  attack 
in  force.  After  he  had  given  his  orders,  General 
Sherman  said  to  Fred:  "I  wish  to  congratulate 
you,  Captain,  on  your  work  since  you  have  been 
with  the  army.  I  don't  know  but  I  shall  yet  have 
to  steal  you  from  General  Thomas.  You  have 
a  knack  of  getting  information  none  of  my  scouts 
seem  to  have.  You  say  the 
enemy  appear  to  be  in  force  in 
General  Thomas's  front." 

"It  is  no  mere  appearance, 
General ;  they  are  in  force.  I 
saw  them  myself,  and  it  was  a 
magnificent  and  glorious  sight, 
even  if  it  was  the  Confederate 
army.  Their  lines  looked  nearly 
two    miles  long,  and  as  perfect 

GENERAL  SCHOFIELD.  ,.  .  .        ,, 

as  though  on  parade. 

' '  I  think  General  Thomas  must  be  driving  them, 
said  Sherman,  after  listening  a  moment.  "The 
sound  of  the  cannonading  seems  to  be  farther  away, 
and  I  hear  no  answering  guns.  You  can  tell  Gen- 
eral Thomas  I  will  have  General  McPherson  up  on 
his  right  as  soon  as  possible,  and  tell  him  to  render 
all  aid  needful  to  Schofield  and  Hooker  if  they  are 
attacked." 

Fred  saluted,  and  turning,  gave  Prince  free  rein, 
and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  he  was  once  more 
with  his  chieftain.  But  the  scene  had  completely 
changed  while  he  was  gone.  There  was  no  enemy 
in  sight,  but  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  long  lines 


A   BATTLE    THAT    WAS  NEVER  FOUGHT.     71 

of  blue  were  sweeping  forward  over  the  field,  their 
bright  arms  flashing  in  the  sunlight,  their  banners 
waving.  Upon  an  elevation  stood  twenty  pieces  of 
artillery,  shelling  the  woods  beyond  the  plain  into 
which  the  Confederate  army  had  disappeared.  The 
rolling  smoke  from  the  cannon  and  their  thunder- 
ous notes  added  grandeur  to  the  scene. 

Fred  stopped  Prince  and  gazed  upon  the  grand 
panorama  before  him.  It  spoke  of  the  pomp,  the 
glories  of  war.  The  long  lines  of  men,  the  glisten- 
ing arms,  the  waving  flags,  the  smoke  of  the  artil- 
lery made  a  picture  Fred  never  forgot. 

Slowly  the  Confederates  were  pressed  back 
through  the  woods,  and  by  night  they  were  in  their 
fortifications  in  the  rear  of  Cassville.  Not  a  sol- 
dier in  Sherman's  army  but  expected  a  great  battle 
on  the  morrow.  But  when  morning  came,  there 
was  no  foe.  The  Etowah,  south  of  Cassville, 
flowed  between  the  two  armies,  and  the  great  battle 
was  never  fought.* 

♦General  Johnston  lost  the  best  opportunity  of  the  campaign  in  not 
giving  battle  on  the  18th  or  19th  near  Adairsville  or  before  Cassville.  He 
had  just  been  reinforced  by  French's  division  of  infantry,  as  well  as  a 
brigade  of  cavalry.  His  army  numbered  over  seventy  thousand  men.  The 
Federal  army,  owing  to  its  losses  at  Resaca  and  the  absence  of  General  Jef- 
ferson C.  Davis's  division,  did  not  number  quite  ninety  thousand,  so  the 
armies  would  not  have  been  as  unequal  in  number  as  at  the  battle  of  Gettys- 
burg. If  the  two  armies  had  met  on  the  open  plain  near  Cassville,  it  would 
have  been  the  greatest  conflict  of  the  war.  It  was  always  a  matter  of  regret 
to  General  Johnston  that  he  did  not  fight  the  battle.  Cassville  gave  rise  to 
a  most  bitter  controversy  between  Johnston  and  Hood. 


CHAPTER  V. 

TRANSFERRED  TO  SHERMAN'S  STAFF. 

THE  Federal  army  halted  at  Cassville  for  three 
days  for  a  much  needed  rest.  During  the 
movement  on  Cassville,  General  Jefferson  C.  Davis 
had  been  eminently  successful  in  his  movement  on 
Rome,  capturing  the  city,  with  its  immense  iron 
foundries  and  machine-shops.  Six  cannon  and 
immense  quantities  of  cotton  and  military  stores 
also  fell  into  his  hands.  The  foundries  and  machine- 
shops  were  burned.  General  Davis  rested  at  Rome 
for  three  or  four  days,  then  moving  southeast 
through  Van  Wert,  he  joined  Sherman's  army  at 
Dallas. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day's  halt  at  Cass- 
ville, as  Fred  came  in  from  an  extended  scout 
along  the  banks  of  the  Etowah,  an  official  docu- 
ment was  handed  to  him.  To  his  surprise,  he 
found  it  an  order  from  General  Sherman  relieving 
him  from  duty  on  the  staff  of  General  Thomas  and 
requiring  him  to  report  to  him.  Much  exercised, 
he  sought  General  Thomas,  and  asked  him  the 
meaning  of  the  order. 

"Captain  Shackelford,"  kindly  replied  General 
Thomas,    "it    simply    means   a  step    higher — that 

72 


TRANSFERRED    TO  SHERMAN'S  STAFF.       73 

instead  of  having  the  command  of  my  scouts  and 
spies  only,  you  will  be  in  charge  of  the  whole  secret 
service  of  the  army.  I  regret  to  lose  you  from  my 
staff,  but  both  General  Sherman  and  myself  agree 
that  it  will  be  the  best  for  the  service  that  you 
report  to  the  general-in-chief  and  be  under  his  direct 
command.  I  shall  still  have  the  benefit  of  your 
knowledge,  and  your  advanced  position  will  enable 
you  to  increase  that  knowledge." 

"But,  General,  I  don't  want  to  leave  you,"  said 
Fred,  in  a  quivering  voice. 

"Captain,"  replied  General  Thomas,  "neither 
you  nor  I  is  his  own  master.  A  soldier  has  but 
one  duty — to  obey.  He  should  be  inspired  but  by 
one  passion — the  love  of  country.  Wherever  you 
are,  under  the  command  of  whatever  general  it  may 
be  your  lot  to  serve,  I  know  you  will  do  your  full 
duty.     Now  go,  and  may  God  bless  you." 

Fred's  heart  was  full  as  he  mounted  Prince  and 
rode  slowly  away.  It  was  like  breaking  home  ties 
to  leave  General  Thomas.  Wending  his  way  to 
General  Sherman's  headquarters,  he  received  a  warm 
welcome,  and  at  once  was  made  to  feel  at  home. 

He  noticed  that  the  discipline  around  the  head- 
quarters of  the  commanding  general  was  not  so 
strict  as  around  the  headquarters  of  General  Thomas. 
The  staff  officers  talked  together  more  freely,  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  criticise,  if  they  so  desired,  the 
merits  or  demerits  of  different  generals. 

The  next  morning  Fred  was  summoned  to 
a  private  interview  with  General  Sherman,  who,  as 


74  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

General  Thomas  had  intimated,  gave  him  a  posi- 
tion on  his  staff,  and  placed  him  at  the  head  of  the 
whole  secret  service  of  the  army.  It  was  a  proud 
position  for  one  so  young  as  Fred. 

"You  are  young  for  so  responsible  a  position," 
said  the  general,  "but. I  have  carefully  watched 
your  actions  and  conduct,  and  I  believe  you  fully 
capable.  Remember  that  there  may  be  times  that 
I  will  act  entirely  on  the  information  you  give  me; 
thus,  in  a  measure,  you  may  hold  the  fortunes  of 
the  campaign  in  your  hands." 

"General,"  slowly  answered  Fred,  "I  fully  real- 
ize the  responsibility  you  place  upon  me,  and 
I  hope  to  prove  worthy  of  your  confidence." 

"I  know  you  will,"  responded  the  general. 
"Now  to  business.  You  thoroughly  scouted  the 
bank  of  the  Etowah  to-day,  did  you  not?" 

"Yes,  General." 

"I  shall  find  no  trouble  in  crossing,  shall  I?" 

"Not  at  any  point  below  Cartersville." 

"How  many  spies  have  you  in  the  Confederate 
lines  now?" 

"Three.  Green  should  have  reported  several 
days  ago.  I  am  afraid  he  is  in  trouble.  Stribbling 
I  only  sent  out  to-day.  Delaney  has  been  gone 
a  week.  I  ordered  him  to  go  as  far  south  as 
Macon,  if  possible.  But,  General,  I  find  that  spies 
in  a  campaign  like  this  are  of  little  value.  The 
information  they  bring  is  generally  so  old  that  it  is 
of  no  use.  I  find  that  my  scouts  are  of  far  more 
value.     They  are  daring  fellows,  and  by  hanging 


TRANSFERRED    TO   SHERMAN'S  STAFF.       75 

around  the  outskirts  of  the  Confederate  army  and 
passing  themselves  off  as  rebels,  it  is  wonderful  how 
much  information  they  manage  to  pick  up.  The 
citizens,  especially  the  women,  are  perfect  gold 
mines.  All  my  boys  are  good-looking,  and  are 
adepts  in  getting  into  the  good  graces  of  the  South- 
ern women !  The  rebel  officers  give  away  many 
a  valuable  secret  to  good-looking  girls,  and  it 
doesn't  take  my  boys  long  to  learn  all  that  they 
know. " 

The  general  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed 
heartily.  "So,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  is  your 
secret,  is  it?  I  have  wondered  what  it  was.  I  now 
see  why  you  will  accept  only  young,  good-looking 
men  on  your  force." 

"It  pays,  General;  but  I  understand  you  move 
to-morrow." 

"Yes;  and  this  is  what  I  wich  to  talk  about. 
Johnston  is  in  the  Allatoona  mountains,  thinking 
I  am  likely  to  move  that  way.  But  if  I  do,  it  is  so 
far  east  it  would  uncover  my  lines  of  communica- 
tions, to  say  nothing  of  the  fearfully  rough  country 
I  should  have  to  move  over,  thus  giving  Johnston 
a  great  advantage.  Instead  of  following  Johnston, 
I  intend  to  move  by  the  way  of  Dallas,  and  if  pos- 
sible strike  Johnston's  communications  at  Big 
Shanty  or  Marietta.  By  doing  so,  I  shall  com- 
pletely flank  his  position  at  Allatoona,  and  force 
him  to  give  battle  or  fall  back  to  the  Chattahoochee. 
But  the  country  I  shall  have  to  march  over  before 
reaching  Dallas  is  wooded,  rough,  almost  mountain- 


76  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

ous.  It  is  a  country  in  which  scouting  will  be 
dangerous,  and  in  which  it  will  be  almost  impossible 
to  detect  the  movements  of  the  enemy.  It  is  im- 
portant that  I  learn  at  the  earliest  possible  moment 
when  Johnston  becomes  apprised  of  my  movement. 
This  is  what  I  wish  you  to  find  out.  It  is  a  danger- 
ous undertaking.  Do  not  be  rash,  but  get  the 
information  if  possible.  One  thing  more, — don't  be 
drawn  into  a  fight  if  you  can  possibly  avoid  it." 

"We  are  never  rash,  General,  and  never  fight 
when  we  can  run.  My  scouts  are  all  splendidly 
mounted,  and  depend  more  on  the  fleetness  of  their 
horses  than  on  their  own  bravery." 

The  general  smiled.  "It  is  very  essential  to 
run  sometimes,"  he  answered;  "but  from  all 
reports,  Captain  Shackelford  sometimes  fights  when 
he  ought  to  run.' 

"Never  as  a  scout,  General.  I  should  not  be 
a  good  one  if  I  preferred  fighting  to  running." 

"Well,  Captain,  I  shall  depend  a  great  deal  on 
you.  May  your  first  scout  in  your  new  position  be 
a  successful  one."     And  Fred  was  dismissed. 

On  the  23d  of  May,  General  Sherman  moved  his 
whole  army  across  the  Etowah,  and  headed  for 
Dallas. 

Along  in  the  afternoon  Fred  and  a  small  party 
of  his  scouts  dressed  in  Confederate  uniform  ven- 
tured beyond  the  Federal  advance.  Fred  found 
the  country  all  that  General  Sherman  had  said, 
a  succession  of  rough,  wooded  hills,  and  very 
sparsely  settled.      It  was  necessary  to  move  with 


TRANSFERRED    TO  SHERMAN'S  STAFF.       77 

the  utmost  caution.  The  few  inhabitants  met  were 
very  ignorant,  and  seemed  to  know  little  about  the 
war,  much  less  of  the  whereabouts  of  Johnston's 
army.  They  had  seen  a  few  "critter  solgers,"  as 
they  called  the  cavalry,  but  it  was  only  in  small 
parties. 

After  an  hour's  ride  they  approached  a  hamlet 
called  Burnt  Hickory.  Reconnoitering  carefully, 
they  discovered  that  it  was  occupied  only  by 
a  small  cavalry  vidette  post,  and  Fred  decided  to 
ride  boldly  into  it.  They  found  it  held  by  a  ser- 
geant, with  half  a  dozen   men  under  his  command. 

"Who  air  yo-uns?"  asked  the  sergeant,  as  they 
trotted  gaily  up,  that  official  being  greatly 
impressed  with  their  fine  horses  and  handsome  uni- 
forms. 

"Scouts  of  General  Johnston,"  answered  Fred. 
"Any  Yankees  about?" 

"No;  but  one  of  our  men  from  below  cum 
through  heah  a  little  while  ago  and  said  a  right 
smart  heap  of  Yanks  had  crossed  the  rivah  and  was 
makin'  for  Van  Wert." 

"Indeed,"  answered  Fred.  "We  are  on  our 
way  to  find  General  Jackson*  now,  with  dispatches 
from  General  Johnston  instructing  him  to  be  on  the 
lookout  for  that  very  movement." 

"Well,  the  gineral  is  down  to'ard  Van  Wert," 
answered  the  sergeant.  "We-uns  belong  to  his 
command." 

Just  then  a  courier  on   a  reeking   horse  rode  up 

♦General  W.  H.  Jackson,  a  Confederate  general  of  cavalry. 


78  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

from  the  direction  of  Allatoona,  and  inquired  for 
the  whereabouts  of  General  Jackson. 

"He  is  on  the  extreme  left  flank,  down  toward 
Van  Wert,"  answered  Fred. 

"That  far,"  said  the  courier;  "that  is  a  long 
ride,  but  I  must  find  him,  as  I  have  important  dis- 
patches for  him  from  General  Johnston.  And 
what  is  more,  one  of  your  fellows  must  let  me  have 
a  fresh  horse.  Here  is  an  order  to  that  effect," 
and  he  produced  a  paper. 

"Yo-uns  frum  Gineral  Johnston,  too,"  said  the 
sergeant.  "Why,  these  fellers  say  they  air  the 
gineral's  scouts." 

The  courier  gave  Fred  and  his  party  a  quick, 
sharp  glance,  and  made  a  motion  as  if  to  grasp  his 
revolver,  but  Fred's  revolver  was  shoved  in  his  face, 
with  a  command  to  surrender,  and  each  of  the 
Confederates  found  himself  covered  by  a  pistol  in 
the  hands  of  a  scout.  A  more  amazed  set  of  men 
were  never  seen. 

"Surrender!"  demanded  Fred;  "we  are 
Yankees." 

"The  Confederates  dropped  their  arms  without 
a  word,  still  too  surprised  to  speak. 

"Here,  none  of  that,"  commanded  Fred,  as  he 
noticed  the  courier  trying  to  make  away  with 
a  paper.  "Another  movement  like  that  and  you 
are  a  dead  man.     Give  me  that  dispatch." 

Trembling  in  every  limb  and  with  a  face  as  pale 
as  death,  the  courier  handed  Fred  the  dispatch. 
Hastily  tearing  open  the  envelope,  Fred  read: 


TRANSFERRED    TO  SHERMAN'S   STAFF.       79 

General  W.  H.  Jackson, 

Commanding  Cavalry,  Left  Flank: 
Sherman's  whole   army   has   crossed   the    Etowah,  and   is 
moving  on  Dallas.     My  army  is  on  the  move  to  head  him  off. 
When  you  retreat,  retire  on  Dallas,  but  dispute  every  foot  of 
ground.  J.  E.  Johnston,  General. 

"Ah,  ha!"  exclaimed  Fred;  "that  old  fox 
Johnston  has  discovered  Sherman's  flank  move- 
ment already.  The  general  must  know  of  this. 
Boys,  marshal  the  prisoners;  we  will  not  return 
empty-handed,  anyway." 

It  was  a  crestfallen-looking  squad  of  Confederates 
that  were  made  to  mount  their  own  horses  and 
accompany  the  scouts  back  to  the  Federal  lines. 

When  General  Sherman  read  Johnston's  dis- 
patch, he  merely  remarked:  "It  was  almost  too 
much  to  hope  for,  but  I  wish  Johnston  had  been 
twelve  hours  later  in  finding  this  out.  As  it  is, 
I  must  try  to  secure  the  cross-roads  at  New  Hope 
Church  before  he  does."  And  he  sent  orders  to 
Hooker,  who  had  the  advance,  to  hurry  and  reach 
the  cross-roads,  if  possible,  before  Johnston  did. 
Then  the  general  turned  to  Fred,  and  warmly  com- 
plimented him  on  what  he  had  done. 

"Well,"  said  Fred,  "if  we  did  nothing  else,  we 
depleted  the  rebel  army  by  eight  men,  and  without 
any  loss." 

"Eight  to  nothing,"  replied  the  general,  with 
a  comical  look;  "that  is  seeing  Johnston  and  going 
him  one  better.  In  his  dispatches  to  the  Confeder- 
ate government  he  claims  to  have  killed  eight  of  my 
men  to  my  one  of  his." 


80  BATTLING   FOR   ATLANTA. 

"Does  he  claim  that?" 

"Surely.  He  has  to  make  some  showing  to  his 
government." 

"Well,  if  he  gets  the  Confederate  authorities  to 
believe  that,  they  are  easily  imposed  upon," 
answered  Fred,  as  he  bade  the  general  good  day. 

Although  General  Hooker  made  all  haste  pos- 
sible, he  did  not  reach  New  Hope  Church  until  the 
evening  of  the  25th,  and  he  found  General  Hood 
there  before  him.  Hooker  at  once  assaulted  Hood, 
and  one  of  the  fiercest  minor  battles  of  the  campaign 
took  place.  But  General  Hooker  was  bloodily 
repulsed  in  the  conflict,  losing  nearly  two  thousand 
men. 

By  the  next  morning  the  two  armies  were  con- 
centrated and  confronting  each  other  once  more  in 
battle  array. 

In  scouting  to  the  left,  Fred  discovered  that  in 
his  hurry  to  concentrate  his  force  at  Dallas,  General 
Johnston's  right  flank  was  in  air.  This  fact  Fred 
reported  to  General  Sherman,  and  the  general  deter- 
mined to  try  to  turn  it.  For  this  purpose  General 
Thomas  J.  Wood's  division  of  the  Fourth  Corps 
was  selected.  General  R.  W.  Johnson's  division 
of  the  Fourteenth  Corps  was  to  protect  the  left 
flank  of  Wood,  while  the  duty  of  protecting  his 
right  flank  was  assigned  to  McLean's  brigade  of 
Haskell's  division  of  the  Army  of  the  Ohio.  The 
whole  was  in  command  of  General  O.  O.  Howard. 
Fred  was  to  act  as  guide  to  the  movement. 

Owing  to   the  thick  woods  and   dense  thickets, 


TRANSFERRED    TO  SHERMAN'S  STAFF.      8 1 


the  progress  of  the  moving  column  was  slow.  Fred 
found  great  difficulty  to  persuade  the  generals  to 
move  far  enough  to  the  left.  Against  his  protest 
they  halted  and  formed  their  assaulting  columns, 
and  advanced  only  to  find  that  the  Confederate 
breastworks  extended  far  to  their  left.  So  they 
withdrew,  and  this  time  marched  to  where  Fred 
indicated.  But  valuable  time 
had  been  lost,  and  it  was  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  before 
the  column  was  ready  to  move 
forward  again.  After  march- 
ing some  distance  and  not  find- 
ing the  enemy,  the  column 
performed  a  right  wheel,  chang- 
ing the  direction  from  the  south 
to  the  west. 

Again  Fred  protested,  aver- 
ring that  the  movement  would  bring  them  in  front  of 
the  extreme  right  of  the  enemy,  instead  of  on  their 
flank  and  rear.  But  the  protest  was  unheeded.  This 
movement,  as  Fred  predicted,  brought  the  assaulting 
columns  in  front  of  the  Confederate  extreme  right. 
During  the  conflict  Fred  acted  as  volunteer  aide  on 
the  staff  of  General  Howard.  The  conflict  was 
a  terrific  one,  and  would  have  been  successful,  if 
Wood  had  been  properly  supported.  The  brigade 
of  General  W.  B.  Hazen  led  the  charge,  and  reached 
the  Confederate  breastwork;  but  receiving  no  sup- 
port and  subjected  to  a  severe  cross-fire,  Hazen  had 
to  fall  back.     General  Wood's  other  brigades  were 


GENERAL  HOWARD. 


S2  BATTLING   FOR   ATLANTA. 

thrown  in,  one  after  the  other,  but  both  were 
bloodily  repulsed. 

General  R.  W.  Johnson's  division,  which  should 
have  protected  Wood's  left  flank,  received  a  volley 
from  Wheeler's  cavalry,  and  halted.  This  gave 
Wheeler  an  opportunity  of  attacking  Wood  on  his 
left  flank,  and  it  was  owing  to  this  terrible  enfilad- 
ing fire  that  the  charge  was  a  failure. 

General  McLean,  on  the  right,  failed  to  show 
himself  to  the  enemy  at  all.  Thus  both  flanks  of 
the  charging  column  were  exposed.  After  two 
hours  of  terrible  fighting,  Wood's  division  was 
forced  to  fall  back,  with  a  loss  of  nearly  a  third  of 
its  numbers.  Both  General  Howard  and  General 
W.  R.  Johnson  were  slightly  wounded  during  the 
battle.* 

Fred  witnessed  the  outcome  of  this  conflict  with 
the  deepest  anguish;  he  felt,  he  knew,  that  if 
rightly  managed,  it  would  have  been  a  great  suc- 
cess. It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  he  rode  back 
through  the  darkness  of  the  night  to  make  his  report 
to  General  Sherman.  He  it  was  that  had  reported 
to  General  Sherman  that  the  attack  was  possible 
and  promised  success.  Would  the  general  hold 
him  responsible  for  the  hundreds  of  brave  men 
fallen?  As  he  thought  of  the  dead  lying  in  the 
woods,  uncoffined  and  uncared  for,  of  the  wounded 

*It  is  strange  that  General  Sherman,  in  his  "Memoirs,"  never  alludes  to 
this  battle;  yet  it  was  the  bloodiest  conflict  fought  by  any  single  division 
during  the  Atlanta  campaign.  Wood's  loss  was  fifteen  hundred,  nearly  as 
great  as  the  loss  in  both  Newton's  and  Davis's  divisions,  which  made  the 
famous  charge  on  Kenesaw  a  month  later.  General  Sherman  also  seems  to 
ignore  entirely  his  loss  in  this  battle,  for  in  his  "Memoirs"  he  places  the  loss 
of  the  army  of  the  Cumberland  during  the  month  of  May  at  6,856.  In  reality 
it  was  nearly  nine  thousand. 


TRANSFERRED    TO  SHERMAN'S  STAFF.      S3 

with  their  life-blood  oozing  away,  he  gave  a  great 
sob,  and  cried  out  in  the  agony  of  his  heart. 

So  different  was  he  from  his  usual  self  when  he 
came  into  the  presence  of  General  Sherman,  that 
the  general  kindly  asked  him  if  he  was  wounded. 

"No,  General,"  was  his  answer,  "only  in  spirit. 
What  I  reported  to  you  as  promising  a  grand  suc- 
cess has  turned  out  a  miserable  failure." 

"I  have  heard  that  the  movement  failed," 
replied  the  general;  "tell  me  all  about  it." 

So  Fred  gave  the  general  a  clear  and  succinct 
history  of  the  whole  affair,  and  ended  with:  "Gen- 
eral, I  can  never  forgive  myself  for  reporting  to 
you  that  this  movement  promised  success.  When 
I  think  of  the  hundreds  of  brave  men  uselessly  sac- 
rificed I  am  nearly  beside  myself.  Yet  I  never  saw 
a  braver  charge,  and  cannot  help  feeling  that  if 
properly  managed  it  might  have  been  a  grand 
victory." 

General  Sherman  looked  at  Fred  with  a  strange 
expression  in  his  eye,  one  of  gentleness,  of  sym- 
pathy, and  then  he  said,  a  little  huskily:  "Captain, 
how  do  you  suppose  I  feel  when  I  order  a  great 
charge,  and  then  find  I  have  sacrificed  my  men  for 
nothing?  You  did  right  in  making  your  report  as 
you  did.  Like  you,  I  believed  it  promised  great 
results.  It  is  not  your  fault  that  it  failed.  What 
is  broken  cannot  be  mended.    We  must  try  again." 

Fred  went  from  the  presence  of  General  Sherman 
comforted;  but  as  he  went,  he  thought  he  heard 
the  general  say,  as  if  to  himself:  "  Hooker  repulsed 


84  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

day  before  yesterday;  Wood  to-day.  We  must  do 
better. " 

For  a  week  the  Dallas  woods  were  the  theater 
of  a  continuous  battle.  Through  the  .thickets  and 
underbrush  the  two  armies  struggled,  and  the 
whole  forest  was  rent  and  torn  with  balls.  General 
Davis's  division  reported  back  from  Rome  during 
this  time.  Take  it  all  together,  the  week  in  these 
woods  was  the  most  unfortunate  part  of  Sherman's 
Atlanta  campaign. 

But  there  came  some  compensation.  On  the 
28th,  General  Sherman  ordered  McPherson  to 
transfer  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  from  the  right 
to  the  left  of  the  army.  General  Hardee  detected 
the  movement,  and  assaulted  the  Fifteenth  and 
Sixteenth  Corps  as  they  were  about  to  move  out  of 
their  works.  Everywhere  the  assaulting  columns 
were  hurled  back  Avith  heavy  loss,  and  thus  the 
failures  of  New  Hope  Church  and  Pickett's  Mill 
were  partially  compensated. 

A  couple  of  days  after  this  the  pickets  of  the 
two  armies  exchanged  papers,  and  Fred  learned 
from  one  of  them  that  his  Uncle  Charles  Shackel- 
ford, who  commanded  a  regiment  in  the  Confeder- 
ate army,  had  been  desperately  wounded  in  the 
assault  on  McPherson.  Colonel  Shackelford  was 
the  father  of  Kate  Shackelford,  a  favorite  cousin 
of  Fred's,  and  the  paragraph  as  he  read  it  gave  him 
the  keenest  pain,  for  well  he  knew  the  agony 
it  would  cause  those  whom  he  loved. 

From   the   same    paper    Fred    learned    that   his 


TRANSFERRED    TO  SHERMAN'S  STAFF.      S5 

father  had  been  promoted  to  the  command  of  a  divi- 
sion ;  and  although  they  were  arrayed  against  each 
other,  he  rejoiced  in  the  honor  conferred  upon  him. 
During  the  first  week  in  June,  Sherman  flanked 
Johnston  on  the  left,  secured  the  possession  of 
Allatoona  Pass,  and  Johnston  was  once  more  forced 
to  fall  back  before  the  onward  march  of  General 
Sherman's  victorious  army. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

KENESAW. 

IN  the  great  stretch  of  country  covered  by  Gen- 
eral Sherman  in  his  campaign  against  Atlanta 
there  is  one  landmark  which  will  ever  remain  the 
same.  Time  cannot  obliterate  it,  the  hand  of  man 
cannot  greatly  change  it — Kenesaw  Mountain.  It 
stands  now  as  it  stood  when  Sherman's  cannon 
thundered  around  it,  and  the  Confederate  army 
hurled  defiance  from  its  rocky  heights.  The  sol- 
dier who  fought  along  its  rugged  sides  still  recog- 
nizes the  spot,  and  stands  with  uncovered  head  on 
the  place  where  some  loved  comrade  fell.  Its 
rocks  and  woods,  its  tangled  thickets  and  deep 
ravines,  are  engraved  on  his  memory  as  with  a  pen 
of  iron.  He  finds  the  very  rocks  behind  which  he 
took  shelter  from  the  leaden  hail  of  death  which 
swept  around  him.  Here  was  the  rifle-pit  over 
which  he  charged  with  such  desperation. 

Kenesaw  now  lies  all  calm  and  peaceful;  above 
it  birds  wheel  and  circle;  around  it  the  song  of  the 
husbandman  is  heard  at  his  daily  toil.  Forgotten 
are  those  bloody  days  of  1864. 

The  fierce  fighting  in  the  Dallas  woods  had 
ceased.     The  Confederates  had  been  pressed  back 

S6 


KENESA  W.  S7 

from  Pine  Mountain,  where  General  Polk  gave  up 
his  life,  and  the  middle  of  June  found  Sherman's 
army  before  Kenesaw. 

As  Fred  stood  and  looked  at  its  rocky  heights, 
his  heart  sank,  for  before  him  he  saw  a  mountain 
almost  as  impregnable  as  Rocky  Face.  For  two 
weeks  the  roar  of  battle  around  Kenesaw  ceased  for 
hardly  a  moment.  There  were  fields  which  were 
literally  plowed  with  cannon-balls.  The  forests 
were  scarred  and  torn  as  by  a  tornado. 

On  the  22d  of  June,  Fred  was  sent  with  orders 
to  Generals  Hooker  and  Schofield  to  extend  their 
lines  to  the  right,  and  then  advance  and  try  to  turn 
the  Confederate  left. 

"Dick,"  said  Fred  to  Darling,  after  they  had 
delivered  their  dispatches,  "let's  stay  and  see  the 
movement.      I  believe  this  will  bring  on  a  fight." 

"See  it!"  answered  Darling.  "Did  any  one 
ever  know  you  to  see  a  fight  without  having  a  hand 
in  it?" 

"Not  so  bad  as  that,  Dick;  but  I  confess  it's 
hard  to  keep  out  of  a  skirmish  when  one  is  going 
on." 

The  two  scouts  rode  out  to  the  front,  where  the 
skirmish-line  was  slowly  forcing  the  Confederates 
back.     The  firing  amounted  to  a  small  battle. 

"Look  a  here,"  exclaimed  a  soldier  who  had 
just  taken  a  shot,  and  was  now  standing  behind 
a  tree  loading  his  gun,  "you  two  fellers  will  get 
knocked  over  if  you  come  fooling  around  here  on 
horseback.     What  did   I   tell  you?"  he  continued, 


88  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

as  a  ball  went  through  Darling's  hat,  just  grazing 
his  head. 

"I  reckon  we  had  better  be  getting  out  of  this, 
Captain,"  coolly  replied  Darling,  as  he  took  off  his 
hat  and  looked  at  it;   "there  is  a  good  hat  spoiled." 

Just  then  the  skirmish-line  charged  and  drove 
the  enemy  from  a  low  wooded  hill  in  front,  leaving 
Fred  and  Dick  in  comparative  safety. 

"Dick,"  said  Fred,  "let  us  leave  our  horses 
here  and  mount  that  hill.  I  notice  some  good- 
sized  trees  on  it,  and  by  climbing  one  we  may  be 
able  to  see  what  is  out  in  front." 

"All  right,"  responded  Darling;  and  a  soldier 
having  been  called  to  hold  their  horses,  they  care- 
fully made  their  way  to  where  the  skirmishers  were. 

' '  Here  is  a  good  tree  to  climb, ' '  said  Fred,  point- 
ing to  one;  "the  leaves  are  thick,  and  they  will 
serve  admirably  as  a  screen." 

"Yes,"  replied  Darling;  "but  the  bullets  seem 
to  be  coming  pretty  thick  through  it,  all  the  same. 
But  never  mind,  Captain,  it's  my  turn  to  climb  this 
time."  And  before  Fred  could  object,  Darling 
had  commenced  climbing  the  tree,  first  telling  a  sol- 
dier who  stood  behind  it  loading  his  gun  to  get 
out  of  his  way. 

The  soldier  looked  at  him  with  the  utmost  scorn 
as  he  commenced  climbing,  and  ejaculated:  "You 
blamed  fool,  you  deserve  to  be  shot.  Darned  if 
I  will  bury  you  if  you  are." 

"Don't  worry,  my  good  man,"  laughed  back 
Darling;    "you    may    get    shot    first,     after    all." 


KENESA  W.  89 

Hardly  were  the  words  out  of  Darling's  mouth 
before  a  ball  took  the  soldier  in  the  arm,  and  he 
went  howling  back  to  the  rear. 

Darling  had  not  climbed  more  than  half-way  up 
the  tree  when  a  shower  of  balls  swept  through  its 
branches,  and  only  the  trunk  which  was  between 
him  and  the  enemy  saved  him  from  being  killed  or 
severely  wounded.  As  it  was,  he  fairly  came 
tumbling  to  the  ground.  But  he  had  had  one  look, 
and  that  was  enough. 

"Captain,"  he  gasped,  "they  are  forming  by 
thousands  and  thousands  in  front;  they  are  going 
to  charge." 

Rushing  back  to  where  their  horses  were,  they 
quickly  rode  to  Hooker  and  Schofield,  telling  them 
of  the  impending  danger.  They,  in  turn,  informed 
their  division  commanders,  who  scarcely  had  time 
to  make  their  preparations  when  the  storm  burst. 
It  was  Hood's  Corps  which  composed  the  charging 
column,  and  they  came  on  with  all  the  impetuosity 
of  that  fiery  commander. 

For  over  an  hour  the  battle  raged,  but  not  once 
did  the  Federal  line  waver;  and  at  last  the  Confed- 
erates fell  back,  losing  between  one  and  two  thou- 
sand men  in  killed  and  wounded. 

"Oh,  that  was  glorious!  glorious!"  cried  Fred, 
as  the  roar  of  battle  died  away  to  the  spiteful  crack- 
ling of  the  skirmish-line. 

"Indeed  it  was  glorious,"  answered  Darling. 
"I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  anything.  Hurrah 
for  Hooker  and  Schofield,  I  say!" 


go  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

This  action  is  known  as  the  battle  of  Culp's 
Farm. 

Just  as  Fred  and  Darling  were  preparing  to 
return,  General  Hooker  rode  up  to  them,  and  said, 
rather  pompously:  "I  wish  you  would  report  to 
General  Sherman  that  I  have  just  repulsed  a  charge 
made  by  all  three  corps  of  the  rebel  army.  Also, 
that  I  was  left  to  fight  the  battle  by  myself,  Scho- 
field  not  giving  me  any  support  upon  my  right. 
The  valor  of  my  soldiers  alone  enabled  me  to  gain 
a  great  victory." 

Upon  Fred's  return,  he  gave  the  message  to 
General  Sherman  as  Hooker  gave  it  to  him,  and 
then  said : 

"General,  I  think  General  Hooker  is  mistaken  in 
one  thing.  I  saw  the  battle,  and  all  that  General 
Hooker  says  about  the  valor  of  the  soldiers  is  true. 
Never  once  did  they  waver;  but  he  was  supported 
upon  the  right  by  General  Schofield,  and  most 
gallantly  supported.  In  fact,  Haskell's  division  of 
Schofield's  corps  was  heavily  engaged.  That  divi- 
sion and  Williams's  division  of  Hooker's  corps  bore 
the  brunt  of  the  fighting.  I  think  General  Hooker 
must  have  taken  Haskell's  division  for  one  of  his 
own." 

"How  about  his  fighting  all  three  corps  of  the 
rebel  army?"  asked  the  general. 

"I  know  nothing  about  that,"  answered  Fred; 
"the  charge  was  made  by  a  heavy  force;  but  if  all 
three  corps  charged  him,  I  don't  see  what  is  in 
front  of  us." 


KENESAW.  91 

"Nor  do  I,"  answered  the  general.  Yet  the 
report  troubled  him,  for  McPherson,  Howard,  and 
Palmer  all  reported  that  the  enemy  seemed  as 
strong  as  ever  in  their  front. 

But  so  astonishing  was  General  Hooker's  asser- 
tion that  he  had  fought  the  whole  of  the  Confeder- 
ate army,  and  had  not  been  properly  supported  by 
Schofield,  that  General  Sherman  himself  rode  over 
to  the  right  to  investigate. 

When  General  Schofield  learned  what  Hooker 
had  reported,  his  indignation  knew  no  bounds.  He 
pointed  out  to  General  Sherman  his  position  on  the 
field,  showed  his  dead,  still  unburied,  that  lay  full 
as  far  to  the  front  as  Hooker's,  and  declared  that 
the  loss  in  Haskell's  division  was  as  great  as  in 
Williams's  division  of  Hooker's  Corps.  He  also 
stated  that  as  far  as  he  knew  the  charge  was  made 
by  Hood's  corps  alone,  although  some  of  the  pris- 
oners reported  that  some  of  Hardee's  corps  were  in 
the  charge,  but  he  knew  of  none  of  Hardee's  men 
being  taken  prisoners. 

The  result  was  that  General  Hooker  was  severely 
reprimanded  by  General  Sherman,  and  given  to 
understand  that  such  statements  must  not  be  made 
again.  From  that  day  Hooker  was  a  dissatisfied 
man.  Having  once  commanded  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  no  doubt  he  was  annoyed  at  his  present 
subordinate  position. 

On  the  27th  of  June  came  the  great  charge  on 
Kenesaw.  To  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  was 
given  the  task  of  storming  the  mountain,  while  the 


92  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Army  of  the  Cumberland  was  to  charge  to  the  right, 
on  ground  which,  though  rough,  was  not  precipitous 
like  the  mountain.  General  Jefferson  C.  Davis's 
division  of  the  Fourteenth  Army  Corps,  and  Gen- 
eral Newton's  division  of  the  Fourth  Corps  were 
selected  as  the  storming  columns  in  the  Army  of 
the  Cumberland. 

At  half-past  eight  in  the  morning  a  hundred  and 
fifty  cannon  opened  on  the  Confederate  lines.  But 
the  fire  was  not  concentrated  on  any  given  point, 
and  did  little  damage. 

The  charge,  which  was  made  in  spite  of  a  strong 
protest  from  General  Thomas,  proved  a  bloody  fail- 
ure, and  three  thousand  men  fell  in  the  vain  attempt 
to  pierce  the  Confederate  lines.  Among  those  who 
fell  mortally  wounded  were  General  C.  G.  Harker, 
a  young  brigadier  of  much  promise,  and  Colonel 
Daniel  McCook,  one  of  the  famous  McCook 
brothers. 

The  failure  of  the  charge  was  a  source  of  the 
deepest  disappointment  to  General  Sherman,  but 
he  made  no  complaint — though  he  gives  a  very 
inadequate  and  curious  apology  for  the  charge  in 
his  personal  memoirs — and  found  no  fault,  and  not 
for  a  moment  did  he  relax  his  efforts.  To  the  sol- 
diers the  repulse  was  even  a  greater  disappointment 
than  it  was  to  the  general.  They  were  both  angry 
and  mortified  because  they  had  failed  to  accomplish 
the  impossible,  and  were  disposed  to  find  fault  with 
the  way  the  charge  was  managed. 

A   short   time   after   the  repulse,  Fred   met  his 


KENESA  W.  93 

friend  Captain  Hugh  Raymond.  Hugh  was  wild 
with  rage  and  mortification,  and  had  lost  all  of  his 
levity. 

"I  gained  the  works,"  he  said  to  Fred,  "and 
for  a  moment  stood  on  the  parapet.  We  had  their 
fire  nearly  silenced  in  front,  but  the  deadly  fire 
from  both  flanks  mowed  my  men  down  like  grain. 
I  tell  you,  if  we  had  charged  with  a  long  front,  as 
we  did  at  Missionary  Ridge,  we  could  have  carried 
the  works.  Oh,  it  was  a  terrible  mistake,  a  terrible 
mistake!" 

"Be  thankful,  Hugh,  you  are  safe  and  unhurt," 
said  Fred.  "Think  of  the  hundreds  who  have 
fallen.  And  Hugh,  look!  the  woods  are  on  fire, 
and  many  of  the  wounded  are  perishing." 

Hugh  shuddered,  and  then  remarked  petulantly: 
"Don't  talk  to  me;  don't  tell  me  what  is  happen- 
ing; I  have  seen  horror  enough  for  one  day.  Go 
and  talk  to  Colonel  Ainsworth  there;  he  is  almost 
broken-hearted;  he  looks  as  if  he  hadn't  a  friend 
left  in  the  world." 

Colonel  Ainsworth  was  well  known  to  Fred.* 
He  found  the  colonel  sitting  on  a  log,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands. 

"Colonel,"  said  Fred. 

Colonel  Ainsworth  looked  up,  and  when  he  saw 
Fred,  a  wan  smile  flitted  across  his  face. 

"Is  it  you,  Captain?"  he  said.  "I  am  glad  to 
see  you.  It  is  not  for  myself  I  am  feeling  badly; 
it's  my  poor  boys.      My  poor  boys!     Captain,  half 

♦See  "  On  General  Thomas's  Staff." 


94  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

of  my  regiment  is  gone.  I  almost  wish  I  were 
among  those  who  fell." 

"Oh,  Colonel,  cheer  up!  I  was  in  hopes  this 
charge  would  put  a  star  on  your  shoulder.  But 
think  of  poor  Harker  and  McCook,  and  rejoice  that 
you  are  alive. " 

"They  at  least  fell  gloriously,  while  I  am  left 
with  a  decimated  regiment.  There  is  no  star  for 
me,  nor  will  there  be." 

"You  will  win  a  star  yet,  before  the  campaign  is 
over,  see  if  you  don't,  Colonel,"  answered  Fred. 

Colonel  Ainsworth  shook  his  head.  "There  is 
no  star  for  me,"  he  replied.  "But  this  will  not 
do ;   my  boys  who  remain  must  not  see  me  moping. 

There  was  many  an  officer  that  day  who  looked 
upon  his  depleted  regiment  or  company  with  a  sad 
heart,  and  General  Thomas  mourned  for  his  men 
needlessly  slaughtered." 

The  day  after  the  charge,  an  orderly  rode  up  to 
Fred,  and  said,  "The  general  would  like  to  see  you, 
Captain." 

Fred  found  General  Sherman  busily  engaged 
poring  over  some  maps.  Seeing  Fred,  he  exclaimed, 
"Prompt  as  usual,  Captain,  I  see." 

He  then  explained  that  since  the  charge  was 
a  failure,  his  only  recourse  was  to  flank  Johnston  out 
of  his  position  again.  "This,"  said  he,  "I  wish  to 
do  by  extending  my  right  flank.  But  it  has  been 
almost  impossible  for  me  to  gain  correct  informa- 
tion of  the  country  to  the  west  and  south;  I  find 
my  maps  very  incorrect.      I  wish  to  know  the  exact 


KENESA  W.  95 

distance  to  the  Chattahoochee  River,  whether  its 
fords  and  ferries  are  guarded,  and  the  condition  of 
the  roads.  In  fact,  I  want  you  to  reconnoiter 
from  the  left  of  the  enemy's  lines  to  the  river,  and 
gain  all  the  knowledge  possible  of  the  topography 
of  the  country.  I  am  aware,  Captain,  I  am  assign- 
ing you  a  dangerous  duty,  but  the  information  I 
desire  is  so  necessary  to  the  success  of  my  next 
movement  that  I  ask  you  if  you  are  willing  to 
undertake  it.  Remember,  it  is  not  a  command.  If 
you  refuse,  I  cannot  blame  you." 

"To  refuse  a  request  from  you,  General," 
answered  Fred,  "would  be  as  criminal  as  to  disobey 
a  command.  To  face  danger,  if  need  be  to  die,  is 
the  duty  of  a  soldier.  I  gladly  accept  the  duty  you 
assign  to  me,  and  will  do  the  best  I  can." 

"Spoken  like  a  soldier,  Captain;  and  may  suc- 
cess attend  you.      Take  as  many  men  as  you  wish." 

Fred  well  knew  that  the  duty  required  of  him 
could  not  be  undertaken  except  in  Confederate 
guise.  So  he  and  twenty  brave  and  true  men 
donned  the  Confederate  uniform  and  rode  away  on 
their  dangerous  mission.  Fred  knew  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  Confederate  army  more  thoroughly  than 
most  of  the  Confederate  officers.  He  was  especially 
well  posted  in  regard  to  the  Kentucky  Confederate 
cavalry  regiments,  knowing  the  names  not  only  of 
the  regimental,  but  also  of  the  company  officers. 
It  was  thus  easy  for  him  to  pass  himself  off  as  an 
officer  belonging  to  one  of  those  regiments.  With 
his  little  company  he  rode  to  the  rear  of  the  Union 


96  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

army   some   three   or   four   miles  before  he  turned 
south. 

They  then  went  several  miles  before  they  met 
with  any  of  the  enemy,  and  those  they  met  were 
either  foraging  or  scouting  parties,  that  did  not 
seem  a  bit  curious  as  to  who  they  were.  They 
were  fortunate  enough  to  reach  the  Chattahoochee 
River  at  the  crossing  of  the  Sandtown  road.  Fred 
found  the  crossing  guarded  by  a  regiment  of  the 
Georgia  State  Guards.  Representing  himself  as 
on  a  tour  of  inspection,  he  found  no  difficulty  in 
finding  out  all  that  the  officers  knew. 

Elated  with  his  success,  he  concluded  to  keep  up 
the  river  until  he  came  to  the  Lickskillet  road. 
This  would  bring  him  dangerously  near  to  the  main 
lines  of  the  enemy.  He  met  several  detachments 
of  cavalry,  to  all  of  whom  he  rendered  satisfactory 
evidence  of  his  business  and  where  he  belonged, 
and  in  return  obtained  information  of  the  utmost 
value. 

"Now,  boys,"  he  said,  "for  our  lines;  we  have 
have  had  glorious  luck,  and  will  run  no  more  risks." 
When  he  said  this  he  little  thought  that  in  a  few 
minutes  half  of  his  little  company  would  be  lying 
cold  in  death,  and  that  he  himself  would  escape 
instant  death  only  by  the  timely  help  of  a  com- 
rade. 

They  had  ridden  but  a  short  distance  after  Fred 
had  spoken  so  cheerfully,  when  to  their  consterna- 
tion they  ran  into  a  regiment  of  Confederate  cavalry. 
Fred  saw  at  a  glance    that    they   were   Kentucky 


KENESA  W.  97 

troops.  He  would  have  to  be  careful;  it  would  not 
do  now  to  belong  to  a  Kentucky  regiment. 

"What  command  is  this,  Captain?"  asked 
a  major  of  Fred,  as  they  met  in  the  road  and  ex- 
changed salutations. 

"A  detachment  of  the  Twelfth  Mississippi,  act- 
ing under  orders  from  General  Loring,"  answered 
Fred,  he  being  aware  that  the  Twelfth  Mississippi 
was  used  principally  for  scouting  purposes. 

Not  a  man  in  the  party  but  knew  that  a  single 
false  move  meant  death,  yet  there  was  not  a  tremor, 
not  a  single  glance  of  fear.  Fred  soon  became 
aware  that  there  was  a  full  brigade  of  cavalry  in 
his  front.  If  discovered,  there  were  no  hopes  of 
breaking  through.  He  glanced  around ;  on  the  left 
there  was  a  meadow  inclosed  by  a  fence. 

There  were  a  number  of  the  Confederate  cavalry 
between  his  men  and  the  fence,  but  if  detected, 
a  break  for  that  field  would  be  the  only  hope. 
Fred  looked  back,  as  if  carelessly,  at  his  little  com- 
pany, and  then  cast  a  quick  glance  out  over  the 
field,  wheeling  his  horse  a  trifle  at  the  same  time. 
There  was  not  one  of  his  scouts  but  understood, 
and  little  by  little  began  to  turn  their  horses'  heads 
toward  the  field. 

"You  are  kept  on  scouting  duty  most  of  the 
time,  are  you  not?"  asked  the  major. 

"Yes,"  answered  Fred. 

"Anything  new  from  the  Yanks?" 

"I  picked  up  a  prisoner  this  morning — an  intel- 
ligent  fellow,    he    appeared    to    be.      He   reported 


98  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

that  their  army  was  greatly  discouraged  over  the 
result  of  the  assault  on  Kenesaw  Monday.  Said  it 
was  the  common  report  that  they  lost  at  least  ten 
thousand  men;  some  regiments  were  completely 
annihilated ;  and  that  the  soldiers  declared  they 
would  mutiny  before  they  would  be  led  against  our 
breastworks  again." 

The  major  beamed  with  delight.  "Good!"  he 
exclaimed;  "that's  glorious  news.  We  will  give 
them  all  they  want  before  we  get  through  with 
them.  General  Johnston  has  old  Sherman  now 
just  where  he  wants  him.  Ah!  there  comes  our 
colonel;  he  will  be  glad  to  talk  with  you." 

Fred  looked  up.  His  heart  stood  still,  the  cold 
sweat  started  out  on  his  forehead.  The  colonel 
was  at  the  beginning  of  the  war  Major  Hockoday, 
a  man  well  known  to  Fred.  No  sooner  did  Colonel 
Hockoday  catch  sight  of  him  than  he  reined  up  his 
horse,  and  stared  in  amazement.  A  look  of  doubt, 
incredulity,  then  of  intense  surprise,  came  over  his 
face. 

"Great  God!"  he  ejaculated;  "Fred  Shackel- 
ford!" 

The  words  had  scarcely  left  Colonel  Hockoday's 
lips  when   Fred  shouted:  "Left  wheel!  Charge!" 

Horses  and  riders  went  down  before  that  fierce 
burst.  Surprised  and  bewildered,  the  Confederates 
knew  not  what  it  meant  until  Colonel  Hockoday 
shouted,  "Yankees  in  disguise;  let  not  one 
escape!"  and  spurred  his  horse  forward  to  intercept 
Fred. 


BL  • 


THE    SHOT  WAS    FIRED    BY    ONE    OF    THE    CONFEDERATE    SOLDIERS. 


KENESA  W.  99 

Fred  was  a  dead  shot  with  the  revolver,  one  of 
the  best  in  the  army;  but  he  had  not  the  heart 
to  kill  Colonel  Hockoday,  for  the  colonel  was  his 
father's  friend.  Not  only  this,  but  once,  when  he 
thought  Fred  had  been  killed  by  falling  over  a  cliff, 
he  had  taken  great  pains  to  have  the  body  found 
that  it  might  receive  Christian  burial. 

So  instead  of  sending  a  ball  through  the  colonel's 
heart,  he  sent  one  through  his  right  arm,  breaking 
it  above  the  elbow.  The  revolver  which  Colonel 
Hockoday  had  drawn  dropped  from  his  nerveless 
hand,  and  he  reeled  in  the  saddle. 

A  burly  Confederate  trooper,  unseen  by  Fred, 
spurred  his  horse  close  to  him,  and  raised  his  saber 
to  strike.  There  were  none  of  Fred's  men  near 
enough  to  parry  the  blow.  It  seemed  as  though 
the  fate  of  the  young  scout  were  sealed  then  and 
there.  But  there  was  a  flash,  a  report,  and  the 
trooper  tumbled  from  his  horse,  dead.  The  shot 
was  fired  by  one  of  the  Confederate  soldiers.  Like 
a  thunderbolt,  Fred  and  his  scouts  burst  through 
the  Confederate  ranks,  leaped  their  horses  over  the 
low  fence,  and  were  riding  like  the  wind  across  the 
field  toward  a  piece  of  woodland. 

But  the  Confederates  had  recovered  from  their 
surprise,  and  were  in  swift  pursuit,  sending  volley 
after  volley  after  the  fugitives.  Now  and  then  one 
of  Fred's  men  would  reel  in  his  saddle,  and  then 
tumble  headlong  to  the  ground.  A  horse  would 
go  down,  and  the  rider,  left  to  his  fate,  would  fight 
until  death  came.     There  was  no  surrender;  to  die 


TOO  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

the  death  of  a  soldier  was  honorable,  to  suffer  the 
fate  of  a  spy  disgraceful. 

For  three  miles  the  pursuit  was  kept  up,  and 
then,  discouraged  and  baffled,  the  Confederates 
gave  it  up.  As  soon  as  deemed  prudent,  Fred 
halted  and  counted  his  little  band.  Of  the  twenty 
brave  fellows  who  had  ridden  with  him,  only  ten 
answered  to  their  names.  There  was  one  more, 
but  he  was  not  of  the  original  party.  Fred  looked 
at  him,  and  then  exclaimed,  "Green,  how  in  the 
name  of  heaven  did  you  get  with  us?" 

The  Confederate  soldier  was  no  less  a  personage 
than  Nat  Green,  one  of  Fred's  best  and  most  dar- 
ing spies.  He  was  the  one  of  whom  Fred  had  spoken 
to  General  Sherman,  saying  he  was  afraid  some 
evil  had  befallen  him.      Green's  story  was  soon  told. 

Finding  himself  under  grave  suspicion,  he  had 
enlisted  in  the  Confederate  army  to  avoid  arrest.* 
So  far  he  had  found  no  favorable  opportunity  for 
desertion.  But  when  he  saw  his  favorite  captain 
about  to  be  struck  down,  he  risked  all,  and  shot  the 
trooper  about  to  strike  the  blow.  He  then  joined 
Fred  and  his  men  in  their  flight,  and  came  off  in 
safety. 

Fred  grasped  the  hand  of  the  faithful  spy. 
"Green,"  he  said,  huskily,  "you  saved  my  life. 
I  shall  never  forget  you."  And  the  rest  of  the  party 
crowded  around  Green  and  one  by  one  took  his 
hand.  Of  the  ten  men  missing,  Fred  only  too  well 
knew  their  fate;  they  had  died  fighting. 

♦An  expedient  often  resorted  to  by  spies  ot  both  armies. 


KENESAW.  IOI 

It  was  a  sad  party  that  rode  into  the  Federal 
lines.  General  Sherman  could  scarcely  believe 
what  was  told  him.  That  Fred  could  have  ridden 
into  a  brigade  of  Confederate  cavalry,  been  recog- 
nized, and  then  escaped,  even  with  half  of  his  men, 
was  almost  past  belief. 

"Captain,"  said  the  general,  "it  is  wonderful; 
you  must  bear  a  charmed  life.' 

"But,  General,"  replied  Fred,  in  a  quivering 
voice,  "my  poor  men!  Ten  out  of  the  twenty  fell 
in  the  unequal  contest.  I  should  have  fallen  if  it 
had  not  been  for  that  brave  act  of  Nat  Green. 
Thank  God !  he  and  Darling  are  among  those  who 
escaped,  but  every  one  of  the  boys  who  fell  was 
like  a  brother  to  me." 

General  Sherman  was  deeply  moved.  "Cap- 
tain," he  answered,  "your  feelings  do  honor  to  your 
heart,  but  such  is  the  peril  of  war.  While  I  deeply 
sympathize  with  you  over  the  loss  of  your  men, 
your  expedition  was,  from  a  military  standpoint, 
a  glorious  success,  worth  the  lives  of  many  men. 
The  information  you  have  given  me  will  enable  me 
to  make  my  flank  movement  intelligently,  and  may 
save  the  lives  of  hundreds.  But  send  Green  to  me; 
I  want  to  reward  him  for  his  brave  and  gallant  act 
in  saving  your  life  by  making  him  a  non-commis- 
sioned officer." 

Valuable  indeed  was  the  information  given  Gen- 
eral Sherman  by  Fred,  and  fully  as  valuable  was 
what  he  learned  from  Green,  for  he  had  kept  his 
eyes  open  while  serving  in  the  Confederate  ranks. 


102  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

On  July  2d,  General  Stoneman's  cavalry,  guided 
by  Fred,  reached  the  Chattahoochee  River  by  the 
route  the  scouts  had  taken.  On  the  same  day  the 
Army  of  the  Tennessee  was  transferred  from  the 
left  to  the  extreme  right  of  the  army.  It  then 
swung  around,  threatening  the  flank  and  rear  of  the 
Confederate  position.  Once  more  General  Johnston 
found  his  communications  within  the  grasp  of  Sher- 
man. 

On  the  morning  of  July  3d,  Kenesaw  Mountain 
and  the  formidable  line  of  works  in  front  of  the 
Federal  army  were  found  deserted. 

What  cheers,  what  wild  hurrahs,  greeted  the  old 
flag  as  the  soldiers  saw  it  proudly  waving  from  the 
summit  of  Kenesaw! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Mcpherson  and  revenge. 

THE  discovery  of  a  body  of  Federal  scouts  in 
their  midst  created  the  greatest  excitement 
in  the  Confederate  ranks.  Although  so  sorely 
wounded,  Colonel  Hockoday  refused  to  go  to  the 
hospital  until  he  knew  whether  all  of  the  scouts 
were  captured  or  not.  When  the  report  was 
brought  to  him  that  ten  of  the  daring  fellows  had 
been  slain,  but  that  the  rest  had  escaped,  he  eagerly 
asked  if  the  body  of  the  captain  in  command  was 
among  the  slain.  No,  it  was  not;  no  doubt  he  was 
among  those  who  had  escaped. 

"And  were  none  captured  alive?"  asked  the 
colonel. 

"Not  one,"  was  the  answer.  "Those  who  had 
their  horses  shot  refused  to  surrender,  and  died 
fighting.  They  sold  their  lives  dearly.  We  have 
at  least  a  dozen  men  killed  and  wounded,  and  one 
missing." 

"One  missing!"  exclaimed  the  colonel,  in  sur- 
prise; "how  is  that?  How  could  they  have  taken 
any  prisoners?     Who  is  missing?" 

"Nat  Green,  the  suspect  who  joined  the  regi- 
ment about  a  month  ago." 

io3 


104  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Colonel,"  said  one  of  his  men,  "I  am  almost 
sure  it  was  Nat  Green  who  killed  Thornton. 
Thornton  was  about  to  cut  down  the  Yankee  cap- 
tain just  after  he  shot  you.  Green  dashed  forward 
as  if  to  help  Thornton;  there  was  a  flash,  a  report, 
and  Thornton,  instead  of  the  Yankee  captain,  fell 
dead.  Green  then  apparently  charged  on  the  Fed- 
erals. But  I  believe  he  killed  Thornton,  and  then 
went  with  the  Yanks  of  his  own  accord." 

Colonel  Hockoday  groaned.  "I  suspected  Green 
from  the  first,"  he  said,  "and  had  him  closely 
watched,  but  never  discovered  anything  suspicious 
in  his  conduct." 

"Colonel,"  said  one  of  his  officers,  "you  must 
have  known  the  Yankee  officer,  for  the  moment 
your  eyes  rested  on  him,  you  cried,  'Great  God! 
it's — '  but  I  did  not  catch  the  name.  Who 
was  it?" 

It  suddenly  flashed  into  Colonel  Hockoday's 
mind  that  for  the  sake  of  General  Shackelford  he 
would  not  mention  the  name;  so  he  replied:  "It 
was  a  young  dare-devil  who  used  to  scout  for  the 
Federal  army  in  Kentucky.  Lord,  how  my  arm 
pains  me!"  And  in  the  colonel's  distress  the  officer 
forgot  to  press  the  question. 

But  that  night  Colonel  Hockoday  sent  a  note  to 
General  Shackelford  asking  him,  if  possible,  to  visit 
him  at  the  hospital,  as  he  had  something  important 
to  communicate. 

General  Shackelford  lost  no  time  in  obeying  the 
summons.      When    Colonel    Hockoday    told    him 


McPHERSON  AND  REVENGE.  105 

what  had  happened,  and  how  his  son  had  been  dis- 
covered disguised  as  a  Confederate,  the  general  was 
not  only  astounded,  but  terror-stricken. 

"Oh,  God!"  he  exclaimed,  "that  I  should  have 
such  a  son!  And  if  he  had  been  captured,  he  would 
have  been  hanged — hanged  like  a  common  felon. 
Colonel,  forgive  me,  but  true  as  I  am  to  the  South, 
I  am  glad — yes,  glad — he  escaped.  If  he  had  been 
captured  and  hanged,  I  should  have  killed  myself. 
I  could  not  have  borne  the  disgrace.  Oh,  Fred, 
Fred !  my  only  son !  I  could  die  for  you  if  you  were 
only  loyal  to  the  South;  but  now — "  and  the  old 
warrior  bowed  his  head  and  gave  way  to  his 
emotion. 

"General,"  said  the  colonel,  "I  respect  your 
feelings,  but  of  one  thing  I  think  you  can  rest 
assured ;  your  son  would  never  have  permitted  him- 
self to  be  captured  alive.  Like  his  men,  he  would 
have  died  fighting." 

"I  believe  that — I  believe  that!"  cried  the  gen- 
eral. "Yet  the  disgrace  of  that — to  have  it  said 
that  General  Shackelford  had  a  son  who  was 
a  Yankee  spy!" 

"One  thing  more,"  continued  the  colonel.  "I 
now  believe  Fred  purposely  spared  my  life.  General 
Morgan  told  me  he  was  the  finest  shot  with  a 
revolver  in  the  Federal  army — that  he  never 
missed." 

"He  is  a  capital  shot,"  said  the  general;  "I 
never  saw  a  better." 

"That  being  the  case,"  answered  the  colonel, 


Io6  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"he  could   have  sent  a  ball   through   my  heart  as 
easily  as  he  did  through  my  arm." 

"I  can  believe  that  of  Fred,"  replied  the  general. 
"He  saved  my  life  at  Missionary  Ridge.  I  heard  all 
about  it  afterwards.  I  also  know  he  entertains  the 
kindliest  feelings  toward  you  for  endeavoring  to 
give  his  body  Christian  burial  when  you  thought  he 
was  killed  by  falling  over  the  cliff.  Fred  never 
forgets  such  things." 

"Now,  General,"  continued  the  colonel,  "I  have 
sent  for  you  to  ease  your  mind  on  one  thing. 
I  know  how  you  feel  on  the  subject  of  Fred's  being 
in  the  Yankee  army — what  a  sore  spot  it  is.  I  also 
know  that  some  jealousy  exists  on  account  of  your 
last  promotion,  and  that  some  tongues  will  wag  if 
it  become  generally  known  that  it  was  your  son 
who  was  the  leader  in  this  daring  exploit.  Now, 
no  one  knows  who  the  Yankee  leader  was  except 
myself.  I  will  keep  silent.  To  do  this  does  the 
South  no  harm." 

"Thank  you,  Colonel,  thank  you,"  exclaimed 
General  Shackelford;  "I  shall  never  forget  your 
delicacy  and  kindness."  And  the  strong  man  was 
visibly  affected. 

But  not  many  days  were  to  pass  before  General 
Shackelford  was  to  know  that  the  troubles  of  his 
son  were  by  no  means  ended. 

A  few  days  after  the  evacuation  of  Kenesaw 
Mountain,  General  Johnston  was  forced  across  the 
Chattahoochee.  From  the  hilltops  along  the  river 
the  Federal  army  could  see  the  spires  of  Atlanta; 


Mcpherson  and  revenge.  107 

the  goal  for  which  they  were  striving  was  almost 
reached. 

Could  the  army  cross  the  swift-flowing  river  in 
the  face  of  the  Confederate  forces?  This  was  the 
problem  General  Sherman  had  to  solve.  He  sent 
Fred  to  scout  the  bank  of  the  river  for  a  suitable 
place  to  cross.  After  a  most  careful  survey,  Fred 
reported  that  he  believed  a  crossing  could  be  effected 
at  the  mouth  of  Soap  Creek.  Here  a  rough  dam 
crossed  the  river,  and  boats  could  be  concealed  in 
the  mouth  of  the  creek  until  ready  to  cross.  So 
far  as  he  could  judge,  the  crossing  was  defended  by 
only  a  company  of  cavalry. 

General  Schofield  went  in  person  and  reconnoi- 
tered  the  place,  reporting  favorably.  On  the  even- 
ing of  July  8th,  General  Schofield's  troops  success- 
fully made  the  crossing,  the  Confederate  cavalry 
fleeing  after  firing  one  volley.  Fred,  who  was  with 
the  party,  picked  up  a  letter  which  one  of  the  caval- 
rymen had  left  half-written.  It  was  a  letter  to  the 
soldier's  wife,  and  as  Fred  read,  he  had  to  smile, 
although  he  felt  a  swelling  of  the  heart  as  he 
thought  of  the  waiting  woman  who  would  never 
receive  it. 

"Dear  little  wife,"  the  letter  ran,  "do  not  worry 
about  me;  I  am  as  safe  as  if  at  home.  I  am  guard- 
ing a  ford  of  the  river  some  miles  above  the  main 
army.  It  is  positively  lonesome  here.  Once  in 
a  while  a  solitary  Yank  shows  himself  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  river,  and  that  is  all.  It  is  quiet 
as  Sunday.      I  do  not  believe  the  Yankee  army  can 


108  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

ever  get  across  the  river ;  so  cease  worrying  about — ' ' 
Here  the  letter  broke  off,  for  the  writer  was  inter- 
rupted by  cheers;  a  fleet  of  white  boats  from  the 
creek  darted  out  into  the  river,  and  the  detested 
Yanks  were  over. 

By  the  seventeenth  of  the  month,  Sherman's 
whole  army  was  safely  on  the  south  bank  of  the 
Chattahoochee,  all  ready  to  take  the  one  step  for- 
ward that  would  bring  them  before  Atlanta. 

But  a  great  change  had  taken  place  in  the  Con- 
federate army.  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston  had 
been  superseded  by  General  J.  B.  Hood.  The 
Confederate  government  had  become  displeased 
with  Johnston  on  account  of  his  continually  falling 
back,  so  he  was  removed  and  General  Hood  put 
in  his  place. 

When  General  Sherman  heard  of  the  change,  he 
cautioned  his  generals  to  guard  carefully  against 
surprises,  for  although  he  did  not  consider  Hood 
as  able  a  general  as  Johnston,  he  had  the  name  of 
being  a  rash  man,  as  well  as  a  desperate  fighter. 

"I  reckon,"  remarked  Fred  to  Darling,  "that 
we  shall  see  some  lively  times  now;  at  least  Gen- 
eral Sherman  thinks  so." 

"The  livelier  the  better,"  Darling  answered. 
"I  am  getting  tired  of  these  foot-races.  Let's  have 
it  out,  I  say,  and  be  done  with  it." 

The  20th  of  July  came,  and  in  the  movement  to 
the  left  for  the  possession  of  the  Atlanta  and 
Augusta  Railroad  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  and 
the  Army  of  the  Ohio  became  separated   from  the 


McPHERSON  AND   REVENGE.  1 09 

Army  of  the  Cumberland.  Stanley's  and  Wood's 
divisions  of  the  Fourth  Corps  were  sent  to  the  left 
to  fill  the  gap,  but  when  these  two  divisions  con- 
nected with  Schofield,  there  was  still  a  gap  of  over 
two  miles  between  the  right  of  Wood's  and  the  left 
of  Newton's  division. 

Now  was  Hood's  opportunity,  and  he  prepared 
to  strike  a  blow  which  would  annihilate  the  Army 
of  the  Cumberland,  while  it  was  isolated  from  the 
rest  of  the  army.  It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon when  the  blow  came — sudden  and  swift  as  the 
swoop  of  a  hawk.  The  full  force  of  the  attack  fell 
on  Hooker's  corps  and  Newton's  division  of  the 
Fourth  Corps. 

Fred  was  over  on  the  right  when  the  battle 
opened;  he  had  come  to  tell  Thomas  of  the  great 
gap  which  existed  between  Newton  and  Wood. 
Just  as  he  had  finished,  the  roar  of  the  opening 
battle  startled  them.  At  General  Thomas's  request, 
Fred  took  his  old  place  on  his  staff  during  the  con- 
flict. In  this  battle,  known  as  the  battle  of  Peach 
Tree  Creek,  General  Thomas  displayed  the  same 
qualities  which  made  him  so  famous  at  Chicka- 
mauga. 

A  portion  of  the  Confederate  army  struck  the 
gap  spoken  of,  and  finding  no  force  to  oppose  them, 
began  to  feel  their  way  around  on  the  flank  and  in 
the  rear  of  Newton.  General  Thomas  saw  the 
danger,  and  turning  to  Fred,  said:  "Go  and  bring 
up  all  of  the  artillery  on  this  side  of  the  creek. 
Ride!  ride  for  your  life." 


HO  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Away  sped  Fred,  when  the  words  were  hardly 
out  of  the  general's  mouth.  He  found  a  number 
of  the  Twentieth  Corps  batteries  still  on  the  north 
side  of  Peach  Tree  Creek. 

"The  General,"  Fred  shouted,  "General  Thomas 
wants  you.     This  way!  this  way!" 

Away  went  the  batteries  at  full  speed,  Fred 
leading  the  way.  But  so  pressing  was  the  danger 
that  General  Thomas  met  them. 

"Faster!  faster!"  he  shouted  to  the  artillery- 
men, who  were  urging  their  horses  on  with  whip 
and  spur. 

"Never  before,"  said  Fred,  "did  I  see  the  gen- 
eral in  such  a  hurry,  or  urge  his  horse  to  so  fast 
a  gallop." 

"Here!  here!"  at  last  the  general  cried,  and 
with  his  own  hand  he  pointed  to  the  place  where 
the  guns  were  to  go  into  position.  A  moment 
more  and  earth  and  air  trembled  with  the  roar  of 
artillery,  and  an  iron  hail  smote  the  ranks  of  the 
enemy,  causing  them  to  falter,  and  then  break  in 
the  wildest  confusion.     The  flank  was  saved. 

The  full  force  of  the  Confederate  charge  struck 
the  Twentieth  Corps,  and  while  General  Thomas 
was  saving  the  flank,  Hooker's  brave  men  were 
fighting  a  terrific  battle.  For  two  hours  the  con- 
flict raged,  and  then,  baffled  at  all  points,  the  Con- 
federates fell  back. 

In  this  battle  Hood  lost  forty-five  hundred  men, 
while  eighteen  hundred  fell  on  the  Federal  side. 
Fred  carried  the  full  details   of  the  fight  to   Gen- 


Mcpherson  and  revenge.  hi 

eral  Sherman,  who   was  greatly  gratified  over  the 
result. 

"Hood  has  commenced  well,"  he  said;  "let 
him  keep  it  up."* 

On  the  morning  of  the  2 1st,  Fred  carried  orders 
to  General  McPherson  to  press  the  enemy  on  the 
extreme  left.  This  McPherson  did,  and  only  the 
timely  arrival  of  Cleburne's  division  prevented 
the  Seventeenth  Corps  from  entering  Atlanta. 

The  struggle  for  the  possession  of  Leggett's 
Hill,  Cleburne  characterized  as  one  of  "the  bitter- 
est fights  of  his  life."  But  the  Federals  carried 
and  held  the  hill.  It  was  during  this  struggle  that 
General  Walter  Q.  Gresham  fell  sorely  wounded. 

On  the  morning  of  the  22d,  the  Confederate 
trenches  in  front  of  the  center  and  right  of  the  Fed- 
eral army  were  found  deserted.  At  first  General 
Sherman  thought  that  Atlanta  had  been  evacuated, 
and  issued  orders  to  his  generals  to  advance  and 
occupy  the  city. 

Fred,  who  had  taken  such  an  order  to  McPher- 
son, came  riding  back,  and  with  a  sly  twinkle  in 
his  eye,  reported  that  General  McPherson  had  found 
it  impossible  to  execute  the  order,  as  the  enemy 
was  still  in  force  in  his  front. 

"I  am  fearful,"  answered  Sherman  with  a  smile, 
"that  none  of  us  will  dine  in  Atlanta  today;   the 

♦General  Hood  asserts  in  his  "  Memoirs"  that  if  his  orders  had  been 
obeyed,  he  would  have  achieved  a  great  victory.  His  orders  were  to  attack  at 
one  o'clock  instead  of  four,  and  the  attacking  column  moved  a  mile  farther 
to  the  right  than  he  intended.  But  if  he  had  attacked  at  one  instead  of  four, 
and  a  mile  farther  to  his  left,  he  would  have  struck  the  whole  of  the  Four- 
teenth Corps,  as  well  as  the  Twentieth,  and  his  defeat  would  have  been  only 
the  more  crushing. 


112  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

enemy  have  only  fallen  back  into  their  works 
around  the  city." 

General  Hood,  instead  of  evacuating  the  city,  as 
was  at  first  supposed,  had  planned  one  of  the  great- 
est surprises  for  General  Sherman  that  he  received 
during  the  campaign.  In  imitation  of  Stonewall 
Jackson's  celebrated  movement  at  Chancellorsville, 
when  that  general  marched  from  the  right  to  the 
left  of  the  Confederate  army,  and  fell  upon  the 
flank  and  rear  of  the  Eleventh  and  Twelfth  Corps, 
utterly  routing  them  and  gaining  the  greatest  victory 
of  his  life,  so  did  General  Hood  conceive  the  idea 
of  marching  Hardee's  corps  around  to  his  right  and 
falling  upon  the  flank  and  rear  of  the  Army  of  the 
Tennessee.  The  movement  was  a  perfect  success 
as  far  as  its  execution  was  concerned. 

The  Sixteenth  Corps  had  been  left  behind  at 
Decatur  to  guard  the  trains.  On  the  morning  of 
the  22d,  this  corps  received  orders  to  march  and 
form  on  the  left  of  the  Seventeenth  Corps,  thus 
placing  it  on  the  extreme  left  flank  of  the  army. 
All  unmindful  of  danger,  the  corps  commenced  the 
march.  As  Murray's  regular  battery  was  trotting 
along  a  road  through  a  wood,  and,  as  it  supposed, 
two  or  three  miles  in  rear  of  the  army,  suddenly  it 
was  surrounded  by  the  enemy,  and  surrendered 
without  firing  a  gun. 

As  oblivious  of  danger  was  the  whole  Sixteenth 
Corps,  when  to  their  consternation  Hardee's  corps 
burst  out  of  the  woods  in  magnificent  battle  array, 
and  charged  on  them  with  fearful  yells. 


McPHERSON  AND  REVENGE.  1 13 

Never  was  a  surprise  more  complete,  never  was 
one  met  with  more  coolness.  It  was  but  the  work 
of  a  moment  for  the  corps  to  halt,  face  to  the  left, 
and  meet  the  charge.  There  was  no  repetition  of 
the  rout  of  the  Eleventh  and  Twelfth  Corps  at  Chan- 
cellorsville.  Instead,  the  corps  stood  firm,  and  hurled 
back  Hardee's  charging  columns.  In  vain  did  the 
Confederates  hurl  themselves 
again  and  again  on  that  slender 
line.      It  stood  immovable. 

But  the  Sixteenth  Corps 
when  attacked  had  not  yet 
joined  with  the  Seventeenth 
Corps,  and  there  was  a  wide 
gap  between  the  two  corps. 
Through  this  gap  the  Confed- 
erates     poured,      and     formed  ■     i^™™//     '" 

....  .  GENERAL    MCPHERSON. 

their  line  to  attack. 

It  was  into  this  gap  that  the  gallant  McPherson 
rode,  and  rode  to  his  death.  He  was  in  consulta- 
tion with  General  Sherman,  when  the  unexpected 
sound  of  battle  on  his  flank  and  in  his  rear  warned 
him  that  all  was  not  well.  Hastily  mounting  his 
horse,  he  galloped  to  the  scene  of  conflict,  and  in 
less  than  an  hour  his  lifeless  body  was  brought  back. 
The  god  of  war  claimed  no  nobler  sacrifice  during 
the  war. 

Fred  had  been  sent  with  orders  at  the  beginning 
of  the  battle  to  General  Frank  P.  Blair,  command- 
ing the  Seventeenth  Corps.  The  left  of  this  corps 
was  attacked  in  front  and   rear,  and  several  of  the 


114  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

regiments  lost  heavily  in  prisoners.  Flushed  with 
success,  the  Confederates  advanced  with  wild  yells, 
attacking  Leggett's  Hill  from  the  rear. 

Now  commenced  a  conflict  the  like  of  which 
Fred  had  never  before  seen.  For  a  moment  the 
soldiers  were  as  if  paralyzed  when  they  saw  the 
Confederates  charging  them  from  the  rear. 

"Over  the  works!"  shouted  General  Force. 

The  spell  was  broken.  With  a  cheer  the  Fed- 
erals vaulted  over  their  breastworks  and  faced  to 
the  rear.  On  came  the  yelling,  charging  columns 
of  the  Confederates,  confident  of  victory.  A  sheet 
of  flame  and  smoke  burst  from  the  Federal  lines. 
The  charging  columns  wavered  and  staggered,  then 
came  sweeping  on.  Hundreds  fell,  but  the  sur- 
vivors, breasting  the  leaden  storm,  reached  the 
works.  Here  they  were  met  with  bayonet  and 
butt  of  musket,  and  beaten  down.  Not  a  soldier 
in  the  Federal  line  wavered  or  thought  of  surrender. 
Every  man  was  a  hero.  The  officers  cheered  on 
the  men,  fighting  by  their  side  in  the  ranks.  The 
brave  Force  fell,  shot  through  the  head ;  but  noth- 
ing daunted,  his  men  fought  on. 

A  Confederate  color-bearer  jumped  on  the 
works,  but  a  ball  from  Fred's  revolver  struck  him 
in  the  breast,  and  he  sank  down  dead,  the  flag  fall- 
ing over  on  the  Federal  side.  A  Confederate 
colonel  led  his  men  to  the  works,  where  panting 
they  lay  down,  only  the  narrow  line  of  earthworks 
separating  them  from  the  Federals.  Colonel  W. 
W.  Belknap  reached  over,  and  catching  the  Confed- 


Mcpherson  and  revenge.  115 

erate  colonel  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  dragged  him 
struggling  over  the  works.  Belknap's  men  cheered 
like  mad  as  they  witnessed  the  brave  act. 

"They  are  wavering!  they  are  giving  back!" 
shouted  Fred;  "give  it  to  them!" 

A  few  crashing  volleys  and  the  disappointed 
Confederates  fell  back,  seeking  shelter  in  the  woods. 
The  Federals  lay  panting  like  dogs.  But  they  had 
only  a  short  time  to  rest  before  the  Confederates 
were  on  them  again.  Once  more  the  battle  roared 
and  thundered,  and  again  were  the  Confederates 
driven  to  the  shelter  of  the  woods. 

Hood,  from  his  lookout  in  Atlanta,  hearing  the 
terrible  roar  of  battle  in  the  rear  of  the  Federal 
lines,  thought  to  finish  his  supposed  victory  by 
charging  from  Atlanta,  thus  having  the  Federals 
between  two  fires.  The  troops  on  Leggett's  Hill 
had  just  repulsed  the  second  charge  from  the  rear, 
when  turning  their  eyes  toward  Atlanta,  they  saw 
Cheatham's  corps  sweeping  down  upon  them. 
"Over  the  works!"  shouted  the  officers;  and  leap- 
ing back  over  their  breastworks,  the  soldiers  now 
fought  facing  Atlanta.  A  few  moments  of  crashing 
musketry,  of  flame  and  smoke,  of  curses  and  yells, 
and  Cheatham's  men  went  staggering  and  bleeding 
back. 

But  to  the  north,  in  front  of  the  Fifteenth 
Corps,  the  roar  of  battle  grew  louder  and  fiercer. 
Fred  looked,  and  a  great  groan  burst  from  him. 

"Great  God!"  he  cried;  "the  Fifteenth  Corps 
has  broken!" 


Il6  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

It  was  too  true.  The  Fifteenth  Corps — the 
pride  of  Sherman  and  of  Logan — was  in  flight. 
Cheatham's  charge  had  broken  their  lines. 

But  the  men  on  Leggett's  Hill  had  little  time 
to  look.  Hardee,  hearing  the  sound  of  battle  from 
the  Atlanta  side,  once  more  charged  from  the  rear. 
Again  did  the  veterans  of  the  Seventeenth  Corps 
leap  their  works,  and  once  more  were  the  charging 
columns  of  Hardee  hurled  back.  During  the  battle, 
the  soldiers  on  Leggett's  Hill  leaped  their  works 
no  less  than  five  times. 

But  how  fared  it  with  the  Fifteenth  Corps? 
Taking  advantage  of  a  railroad  cut,  General 
Cheatham  threw  a  strong  column  through  it.  So 
dense  was  the  smoke,  this  column  was  not  discov- 
ered until  it  was  on  the  flank  and  in  the  rear  of  the 
Federal  lines. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  battle  raged,  and  then 
the  Fifteenth  Corps  broke  and  fled,  leaving 
DeGres's  battery  in  the  enemy's  hands.  Every 
horse  except  one  belonging  to  the  battery  was  killed 
during  the  fight.  Captain  DeGres  came  back,  the 
tears  running  down  his  cheeks,  mourning  over  the 
loss  of  his  beloved  guns.  They  were  twenty-pound 
Parrots,  and  the  delight  of  the  captain's  heart. 

General  Sherman,  from  his  headquarters  at  the 
Howard  House,  saw  the  disaster,  and  made  haste 
to  retrieve  it. 

"Bring  up  your  artillery,"  was  his  order  to 
General  Schofield. 

Soon  twenty  cannon  were  sweeping  the  Confed- 


Mcpherson  and  revenge.  117 

erates'  lines  with  an  enfilading  fire  of  shell  and 
canister.  The  charge  was  stayed,  but  the  Confed- 
erates still  held  the  breastworks  wrested  from  the 
Fifteenth  Corps,  thus  endangering  the  whole  Seven- 
teenth Corps. 

Now  a  lone  rider,  on  a  horse  as  black  as  night, 
appeared  on  the  scene.  "It's  Logan!  It's 
Logan!"  was  the  cry. 

Yes;  it  was  General  John 
A.  Logan,  who  on  the  death  of 
General  McPherson  had  suc- 
ceeded to  the  command  of  the 
Army  of  the  Tennessee.  Logan 
was  at  the  left  when  the 
ominous  tidings  were  borne  to 
him  that  the  Fifteenth  Corps 
had  broken  and  was  in  flight. 
He  could  scarcely  believe  the 
news.  The  Fifteenth  Corps — his  corps — his  boys — 
fleeing  from  the  enemy !  Like  a  whirlwind  he 
rode  to  the  point  of  disaster. 

He  who  saw  Logan  on  that  battle-swept  field 
will  never  forget  him.  His  midnight  steed  was 
covered  with  foam  and  dust,  his  hat  was  gone,  his 
long  hair  was  flying  in  the  wind,  and  his  eyes  were 
blazing  with  wrath  and  excitement. 

Down  the  line,  among  the  panic-stricken  sol- 
diers, he  swept.  "McPherson  and  revenge! 
McPherson  and  revenge!"  was  his  cry. 

He  looked  like  the  god  of  war  incarnate.  The 
soldiers  saw,  heard,  halted,  and  faced  about. 


GENERAL  LOGAN. 


Il8  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

' '  Logan !  Logan ! ' '  rang  above  the  roar  of  battle. 
Then  as  one  man  they  took  up  the  cry,  "McPher- 
son  and  revenge!  McPherson  and  revenge!" 

The  panic  was  over;  there  was  to  be  no  more 
retreating.  Hastily  were  the  lines  reformed  to 
retake  the  breastworks. 

From  the  left  came  a  brigade  from  the  Sixteenth 
Corps.  They  were  black  with  the  smoke  of  battle 
and  flushed  with  victory,  for  in  their  front  the 
enemy  had  been  driven  from  the  field.  They  were 
panting  like  dogs,  for  they  had  come  on  the  run  for 
a  mile  and  a  half;  but  without  thoughts  of  rest, 
they  joined  forces  with  the  Fifteenth  Corps,  and 
with  the  cry  of  " McPherson  and  revenge!"  the 
whole  force  sprang  to  the  charge. 

Nothing  could  withstand  that  fierce  assault. 
The  Confederates  were  hurled  from  the  intrench- 
ments  they  had  captured,  DeGres's  battery  was 
retaken,  and  Cheatham's  whole  corps  sent  reeling 
back  into  Atlanta. 

The  fight  was  over.  Hood's  desperate  attempt 
to  crush  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  had  failed. 
But  on  the  Federal  side,  amid  the  general  rejoicing, 
there  was  sorrow — sorrow  for  McPherson — McPher- 
son, the  young,  the  brave,  the  daring,  and  gentle 
as  he  was  brave  and  daring.  Not  only  was  he  the 
idol  of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee,  but  of  the 
whole  army.  Throughout  the  Army  of  the  Cum- 
berland and  the  Army  of  the  Ohio  the  grief  over 
his  death  was  almost  as  intense  as  in  the  Army  of 
the  Tennessee. 


Mcpherson  and  revenge.  119 

It  was  dark  before  the  battle  was  entirely  over, 
and  Fred  left  Leggett's  Hill  to  report  to  the  head- 
quarters of  General  Sherman.  He  found  the  gen- 
eral greatly  elated  over  the  result  of  the  battle,  but 
sorrowing  over  the  death  of  McPherson.  When 
Fred  told  him  of  the  conflict  on  Leggett's  Hill,  he 
could  hardly  restrain  his  enthusiasm. 

"Such  soldiers,  such  soldiers!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Did  general  ever  before  command  such  men?" 

The  next  day  came  the  sad  duty  of  burying  the 
dead.  The  Army  of  the  Tennessee  lost  nearly 
thirty-six  hundred  men  in  killed,  wounded,  and 
prisoners,  and  ten  pieces  of  artillery.  Just  how 
many  the  Confederates  lost  will  never  be  known. 
One  thousand  of  their  dead  were  delivered  to  them 
under  a  flag  of  truce,  and  eight  hundred  were 
buried  in  front  of  the  Sixteenth  and  Fifteenth  Corps. 
The'  total  Confederate  loss  has  been  variously 
estimated  at  from  six  thousand  to  ten  thousand. 
It  was  a  bold  and  desperate  game  that  Hood  played, 
and  he  lost.* 

♦From  a  military  standpoint,  Hood's  flank  attack  on  the  Army  of  the  Ten- 
nessee deserves  to  rank  with  that  of  Stonewall  Jackson  at  Chancellorsville. 
It  was  admirably  conceived  and  well  executed.  Why  then  did  it  fail  while 
Jackson's  won?  From  two  causes:  chance,  and  the  character  of  the  troops 
assailed.  Chance  has  decided  the  fortune  of  many  a  general,  and  lost  or  won 
many  a  battle.  Chance  is  something  no  general  can  guard  against.  It  was 
by  chance  that  Hardee  met  the  Sixteenth  Corps  on  the  march,  and  that 
meeting  had  much  to  do  with  the  defeat  of  the  Confederates. 

The  coolness  which  the  Sixteenth  Corps  showed  when  surprised  on  the 
march,  and  the  tenacity  with  which  the  Seventeenth  Corps  clung  to  Leggett's 
Hill,  must  excite  the  admiration  of  every  true  man.  Greater  bravery  was  not 
shown  on  any  other  battlefield  of  the  war. 

It  was  from  these  causes  that  the  movement  failed;  not  from  any  mistake 
of  Hardee,  as  General  Hood  would  have  the  world  believe. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

STONEMAN'S  RAID. 

A  COUPLE  of  days  after  the  battle  of  Atlanta, 
Fred  met  his  young  friend  Captain  Hugh 
Raymond. 

"Hello!  Hugh,"  he  exclaimed;  "I  am  glad  to 
see  you.  I  have  big  news  to  tell  you.  It's  safe 
to  talk  with  you,  for  I  know  you  won't  peep." 

"What  is  it?"  drawled  Hugh;  "has  Sherman 
concluded  to  give  me  McPherson's  place?  That 
would  be  a  wise  move.  I  have  always  known  I  was 
destined  for  greatness." 

"Major-General  Raymond,  allow  me  to  con- 
gratulate you,"  replied  Fred,  gravely  taking  off  his 
hat.  "But  why  stop  at  the  command  of  the  Army 
of  the  Tennessee?  Why  not  supersede  General 
Sherman  at  once?" 

"Oh!  Uncle  Billy  and  I  are  good  friends. 
I  couldn't  think  of  jumping  his  claim;  it  wouldn't 
be  the  fair  thing.      But  what  is  your  news?" 

"Such  a  distinguished  officer  as  you  should 
know,  and  not  be  calling  on  a  poor  captain." 

"Oh,  quit  your  fooling!  Don't  you  see  I  am 
just  dying  to  get  at  that  news?" 

"All   right,    Hugh.     The   biggest    cavalry    raid 


STONEMAN'S  RAID.  121 

ever  attempted  in  the  West  is  being  organized. 
Its  destination  is  Macon,  and  perhaps  Anderson- 
ville." 

"Whew!  Shackelford,  you  are  joking;  the 
cavalry  wouldn't  attempt  as  big  a  thing  as  that." 

"There  you  are  wrong,  Hugh.  The  whole 
thing  has  been  arranged.  Ed  McCook,  with  his 
division  of  cavalry,  is  to  start  from  the  right  of  the 
army  and  strike  the  Macon  Railroad  at  or  near 
Lovejoy.  General  Stoneman  will  move  on  the 
same  day  from  Decatur,  and  if  possible  effect 
a  junction  with  McCook  at  Lovejoy.  The  two 
will  then  move  on  Macon  and  capture  it.  General 
Garrard  will  move  with  his  division  as  far  as  Flat 
Rock,  and  will  then  be  left  to  look  after  Wheeler. 
Macon  once  captured,  Stoneman  and  McCook,  if 
thought  expedient,  are  to  move  on  Andersonville, 
where  there  are  at  least  thirty  thousand  of  our  pris- 
oners confined." 

Hugh  gave  a  prolonged  whistle.  "That  is 
a  magnificent  programme,  on  paper,  Captain,  but 
it  is  a  big  undertaking  you  have  mapped  out. 
How  many  men  will  there  be  in  the  raid?" 

"At  least  nine  thousand.  I  am  to  accompany 
the  expedition;  General  Stoneman  especially 
requested  it,  and  General  Sherman  has  consented. 
The  general  is  hoping  for  great  things  from  the 
raid." 

"And  so  you  expect  to  accomplish  all  of  these 
things  with  the  cavalry,  do  you?"  and  Hugh 
sniffed  rather  contemptuously.     Like  many  of  the 


122  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

infantry,  he  had  a  poor  opinion  of  the  fighting 
qualities  of  the  cavalry.  Hugh's  dislike  of  the 
cavalry  had  been  strengthened  by  a  little  incident 
which  had  happened  about  two  years  before.  He 
had  laughingly  offered  a  reward  of  five  dollars  for 
the  dead  body  of  a  cavalryman  killed  in  battle. 
A  burly  cavalryman  who  had  heard  him,  instead  of 
accepting  the  wager,  gave  him  a  good  thrashing, 
blacking  both  of  his  eyes.  That  thrashing  had 
always  been  a  sore  spot  with  Hugh,  and  he  never 
quite  forgave  the  cavalry  for  it. 

"I  suppose,"  continued  Hugh,  "that  Wheeler 
will  just  sit  still  and  let  Stoneman  work  his  own 
sweet  will.  I  tell  you,  Captain,  that  little  devil 
Wheeler  is  worth  half  a  dozen  of  our  generals. 
I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  should  play  ducks  and 
drakes  with  your  fine  plans.  But,  Captain,  I  sin- 
cerely hope  your  raid  will  be  a  grand  success. 
I  only  wish  I  could  go  with  you." 

"So  do  I,  Hugh.  Wouldn't  it  be  glorious  if 
we  could  liberate  all  those  poor  fellows  in  that 
vile  pen  at  Andersonville?" 

1 '  That  it  would,  Captain  ;  but  be  careful  that  you 
are  not  carried  a  prisoner  to  Andersonville,  instead 
of  liberating  those  already  there.  I  have  little  faith 
in  these  cavalry  raids;  so  far  they  have  accom- 
plished little.  But  I  must  be  going.  Good-bye, 
Captain,  and  may  the  raid  be  a  grand  success." 

It  was  as  Fred  told  Hugh.  General  Sherman 
had  planned  a  raid  on  the  Confederate  rear,  which 
he   fondly   hoped   would   give  him   Atlanta.      But 


STONEMAN'S  RAID.  I  23 

unfortunately  for  Sherman,  he  had  not  a  Sheridan 
to  lead  his  cavalry. 

Fred  watched  the  preparations  for  the  raid  with 
anxious  eyes,  and  soon  became  satisfied  that  things 
were  not  just  as  they  should  be.  The  fact  was  the 
cavalry  had  no  real  head.  General  Stoneman  was 
nominally  commander  of  the  cavalry,  but  really 
had  command  of  the  left  wing  only.  The  different 
division  commanders  seemed  to  exercise  about 
equal  authority. 

On  the  27th  of  July,  the  raiders  started.  The 
right  division,  under  the  command  of  General 
Edward  McCook,  was  at  first  very  successful. 
Making  a  wide  sweep  to  the  right  of  Atlanta,  he 
struck  the  Atlanta  and  West  Point  Railroad  at  Pal- 
metto, and  destroyed  two  and  a  half  miles  of  the 
track.  Then  riding  straight  for  Lovejoy,  on  the 
Atlantic  and  Macon  Railroad,  he  destroyed  five 
miles  of  that  track.  During  this  time  he  had  cap- 
tured and  burned  nearly  a  thousand  wagons,  killed 
a  thousand  mules,  and  destroyed  a  large  amount  of 
provisions  and  cotton,  besides  taking  about  five 
hundred  prisoners. 

At  Lovejoy,  General  McCook  found  General 
Wheeler  between  his  position  and  where  he  sup- 
posed General  Stoneman  to  be.  Hearing  nothing 
from  Stoneman,  General  McCook  resolved  to  return 
by  the  same  route  as  that  by  which  he  came.  But 
at  Newnan  he  was  attacked  by  Wheeler,  and  badly 
defeated.  The  prisoners  he  had  taken  were  recap- 
tured, and  his  whole  command  was  scattered,  hun- 


124  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

dreds  of  his  men  losing  their  horses,  and  taking  to 
the  woods  and  mountains  on  foot.  In  this  way  all 
except  about  five  hundred  of  them  eventually  found 
their  way  into  the  Federal  lines.  General  McCook 
became  separated  from  his  command,  but  made  his 
escape,  accompanied  by  one  orderly. 

General  Stoneman  started  with  his  division  from 
Decatur  on  the  same  day  that  McCook  started  from 
the  right.  General  Garrard's  large  division  was  to 
protect  Stoneman's  left  flank.  General  Garrard 
moved  with  Stoneman  as  far  as  Flat  Rock.  At  Flat 
Rock  General  Stoneman  decided  not  to  attempt  to 
join  McCook  at  Lovejoy,  but  to  leave  Garrard  at 
Flat  Rock  to  engage  the  attention  of  Wheeler,  and 
to  push  straight  on  to  Macon  with  his  division,  send- 
ing one  of  his  brigades  to  break  the  railroad  leading 
east  from  Macon.  This  the  brigade  succeeded  in 
doing,  joining  Stoneman  before  Macon. 

Fred  was  with  the  column  under  General  Stone- 
man. He  had  ten  of  his  best  scouts  with  him,  and 
they  did  yeoman  service  in  discovering  the  position 
and  number  of  the  enemy  in  their  front.  When 
the  column  first  started,  Fred  had  high  hopes  of  the 
success  of  the  raid. 

"I  say,  Dick,"  he  remarked  to  Darling,  "if  we 
can  only  take  Macon,  and  then  go  on  to  Anderson- 
ville  and  liberate  the  prisoners,  it  would  be  the 
grandest  thing  of  the  war." 

"So  it  would,"  answered  Darling;  "and  I  see 
no  reason  why  the   raid   should   not  be  a  success." 

"Neither  do  I,"  was  Fred's  answer. 


STONEMAN'S   RAID.  1 25 

But  when  Flat  Rock  was  reached,  both  Fred  and 
Darling  had  reason  to  change  their  minds.  When 
they  brought  General  Stoneman  the  news  that 
Wheeler  was  between  him  and  Lovejoy  with  a  large 
force,  and  the  general  concluded  not  to  try  to  effect 
a  junction  with  McCook,  but  to  leave  Garrard's 
division  at  Flat  Rock  to  engage  the  attention  of 
Wheeler,  while  he  with  his  division  would  push 
straight  for  Macon,  Fred  felt  that  the  raid  would 
be  a  failure.  He  remonstrated  as  strongly  as  his 
position  warranted.  "Attack  Wheeler,"  was  his 
suggestion,  "drive  him  back  on  McCook,  and  be- 
tween the  two  forces  he  can  be  destroyed.  With 
Wheeler  and  his  cavalry  out  of  the  way,  we  can 
ride  where  we  choose." 

When  Fred  modestly  hinted  this  he  was  met 
with  a  flat  refusal  from  General  Stoneman. 

"No,"  replied  the  general;  "that  means  a  heavy 
battle ;  and  even  if  we  be  successful,  it  may  leave 
us  so  crippled  that  we  shall  be  in  no  condition  to 
advance.  You  report  that  the  road  to  Macon  is 
practically  clear.  By  leaving  General  Garrard  here 
to  occupy  the  attention  of  Wheeler,  we  can  dash 
forward,  and  be  in  Macon  before  the  rebels  realize 
what  we  are  doing." 

So  with  a  force  hardly  exceeding  two  thousand 
men,  General  Stoneman  started  for  Macon. 

General  Garrard  poorly  performed  his  part. 
Although  his  force  greatly  exceeded  the  force  of 
General  Wheeler,  he  became  bewildered,  and  after 
a  slight  skirmish  with  Wheeler's  forces,  he  evacu- 


126  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

ated  Flat  Rock,  and  retreated  toward  Lithonia. 
This  was  the  beginning  of  the  disasters  which  befell 
the  great  cavalry  raid.  After  Garrard's  forces  were 
gone,  Wheeler  at  once  dispatched  a  brigade  in  pur- 
suit of  General  Stoneman,  and  with  the  remainder  of 
his  force  fell  on  McCook,  to  the  utter  discomfiture 
of  that  general,  as  has  been  shown.  General  Stone- 
man  met  with  no  serious  opposition  until  within 
three  miles  of  Macon,  when  he  was  met  by  a  strong 
force  and  driven  back.  For  nearly  twenty  miles 
there  was  a  continuous  running  fight,  until  at  last 
the  Federal  forces  found  themselves  surrounded. 

A  council  of  war  was  held,  and  General  Stone- 
man  directed  Colonel  Capron  and  Colonel  Adams, 
his  brigade  commanders,  to  attempt  to  cut  their 
way  out.  He,  with  the  remnant  of  his  force,  about 
five  hundred  men,  would  hold  the  enemy  as  long 
as  possible,  thus  giving  them  time  to  escape. 

"And  what  will  you  then  do,  General?"  asked 
Colonel  Capron. 

"Surrender,"  was  the  reply.  "I  shall  sacrifice 
myself  to  save  you  and  Adams,  with  your  com- 
mands." 

Both  Colonels  Capron  and  Adams  protested 
against  leaving  their  commander,  but  at  last  con- 
sented, and  both  were  successful  in  cutting  their 
way  through  the  enemy's  lines. 

Fred  during  this  time  was  in  the  rear,  helping 
to  beat  back  the  enemy's  advance,  and  knew  noth- 
ing of  General  Stoneman's  decision.  He  had  just 
made  a  brilliant  charge  at  the  head  of  about  a  hun- 


STONEMAN'S   RAID.  1 27 

dred  men,  scattering  the  Confederates  before  them, 
thus  for  a  time  effectually  checking  the  pursuit, 
when  an  orderly  rode  up  to  him,  and  commanded 
him  to  cease  firing,  saying  that  the  general  was 
about  to  surrender. 

Fred  was  thunderstruck.  He  was  flushed  with 
his  success,  and  could  scarcely  believe  what  he  had 
heard. 

"To  surrender!"  he  gasped. 

"Yes;  both  Colonels  Capron  and  Adams  with 
their  brigades  have  cut  their  way  out,  and  General 
Stoneman  is  going  to  surrender  the  rest  of  us." 

Instantly  Fred  wheeled  his  horse,  and  calling  to 
his  scouts,  dashed  back  to  find  the  general. 

"Is  it  true  you  intend  to  surrender?"  asked 
Fred,  abruptly. 

"Yes,"  answered  General  Stoneman.  "It  is 
madness  to  continue  the  fight  any  longer.  Colonels 
Capron  and  Adams,  with  their  brigades,  have  been 
gone  nearly  an  hour.  I  have  only  continued  the 
fight  to  enable  them  to  get  a  good  start.  I  believe 
they  are  now  out  of  danger,  and  so  shall  surrender, 
and  stop  the  useless  slaughter." 

"But,  General,  if  Capron  and  Adams  have  cut 
their  way  out,  why  cannot  we?" 

"Because  the  whole  rebel  force  would  be  upon 
us.  My  fighting  here  for  the  last  hour  has  pre- 
vented the  enemy  from  pursuing  Capron  and 
Adams.  I  have  now  barely  five  hundred  men 
left.  For  us  to  attempt  to  cut  our  way  out  now 
would  be  madness." 


128  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"General,"  cried  Fred,  forgetting  himself  and 
what  was  due  to  his  commanding  general,  "I  protest 
against  this  surrender.  I  believe  we  can  cut  our 
way  out.  I  do  not  believe  the  rebel  force  around 
us  is  nearly  as  great  as  you  think.  I  am  almost 
sure  we  can  cut  our  way  through." 

"My  officers  think  differently,"  replied  General 
Stoneman,  coldly.  "As  for  me,  I  care  not  what 
becomes  of  me,  but  I  cannot  see  my  brave  men 
slaughtered  uselessly."  Then  turning  to  Captain 
Perkins,  he  said,  "Raise  the  white  flag." 

"Hold!"  cried  Fred;  "before  you  do  that  give 
me  five  minutes  in  which  to  cut  my  way  out." 

The  general  shook  his  head. 

"Four — three — two  minutes!"  exclaimed  Fred, 
in  desperation. 

"Two,  then,"  said  the.  general;  "but,  Captain, 
remember  I  am  not  responsible  for  your  foolhardy 
attempt,  and  I  absolutely  forbid  you  to  take  any 
men  with  you  with  the  exception  of  your  scouts." 

Fred  turned  to  his  men ;  there  were  but  six  of 
them  left.  "Boys,"  he  said,  "shall  we  try  to  cut 
our  way  out?  It  may  be  death.  None  need  go 
unless  they  wish. 

"Death  is  preferable  to  Andersonville!"  each 
and  every  one  shouted.  "Lead  on,  Captain ;  we 
are  with  you." 

Casting  a  proud  look  on  his  men,  Fred  galloped 
eastward  across  an  open  field.  Barring  the  way 
were  at  least  fifty  Confederates. 

"  Charge  !"  shouted  Fred. 


STOIVEMAN'S  RAID.  1 29 

Before  the  Confederates  realized  that  seven  men 
were  charging  half  a  hundred,  Fred  and  his  little 
party  were  on  them.  Horses  and  riders  went  down 
in  that  fierce  rush.  There  was  a  rattle  of  fire-arms, 
a  clash  of  sabers,  and  then  from  out  the  confused 
mass  five  horsemen  galloped  away,  pursued  by 
a  shower  of  balls.  Two  of  Fred's  men  had  fallen, 
but  at  least  half  a  dozen  Confederates  had  bitten 
the  dust,  besides  the  wounded. 

A  rapid  ride  of  an  hour  brought  Fred  and  his 
party  to  the  rear  of  Capron's  brigade.  Close  after 
them  came  a  body  of  Confederates  in  swift  pursuit. 
Fred  helped  the  rear  guard  beat  back  the  Confed- 
erates, and  then  reported  to  Colonel  Capron. 

"Captain,"  said  the  colonel,  "I  am  more  than 
glad  to  see  you.  Take  command  of  my  rear  guard. 
Pick  out  seventy-five  men  with  the  best  horses. 
Also  see  that  you  choose  men  who  have  not  been 
demoralized.  On  their  courage  and  your  watchful- 
ness will  depend  the  safety  of  my  command." 

Fred  accepted  the  charge,  and  soon  had  picked 
out  seventy-five  men,  cool,  determined  fellows, 
and  all  splendidly  mounted.  For  three  days  and 
nights  the  command  rode,  with  hardly  an  hour's 
rest.  Toward  the  evening  of  the  first  day,  Capron 
was  joined  by  Colonel  Adams's  brigade,  and 
together  the  two  commands  made  their  way  north- 
ward. 

For  two  days  the  rear  guard  had  an  almost  con- 
tinual battle,  but  Fred  posted  his  men  so  skillfully, 
and  inflicted  such  punishment  on  the  pursuers,  that 


130  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

on  the  evening  of  the  second  day  the  Confederates 
apparently  gave  up  the  pursuit  and  let  the  weary 
Federals  continue  their  way  in  peace. 

On  the  third  day  the  brigades  of  Capron  and 
Adams  became  separated  through  the  error  of 
a  guide,  who  led  Capron  to  a  wrong  ford  across  the 
Oconee  River.  But  as  his  command  had  not  been 
molested  during  the  day,  and  his  men  and  horses 
were  utterly  worn  out  by  three  days  and  nights  of 
incessant  riding,  Capron  decided  to  rest  for  the 
night. 

Sending  for  Fred,  he  said:  "Captain,  I  want 
you  to  call  in  your  men  and  let  them  get  a  little 
rest.  They  must  be  utterly  exhausted.  You  have 
done  nobly.  Not  once  have  I  had  to  halt  my 
column." 

"Yes;  my  men  are  completely  worn  out," 
replied  Fred;  "but  are  we  out  of  danger?" 

"I  think  so,"  answered  Colonel  Capron;  "we 
have  been  unmolested  during  the  whole  day." 

"But,  Colonel,  where  is  the  rest  of  the  com- 
mand?    Where  is  Colonel  Adams?" 

"I  don't  know,  and  that  troubles  me.  My  guide 
has  misled  me.  We  should  have  crossed  the 
Oconee  two  and  a  half  miles  above  Athens.  The 
guide  has  led  me  six  miles  out  of  the  way  to  another 
ford.  There  was  a  large  force  of  the  enemy  near 
us  at  the  time,  as  you  know,  and  I  determined  to 
keep  on  without  Adams.  For  the  last  twenty 
miles  even  your  rear  guard  has  not  been  molested. 
I    think   we   are   entirely   safe   from    attack  for  the 


STONEMAN'S  RAID.  131 

night.  I  will  also  see  that  the  command  is  well 
picketed.     You  can  rest  in  peace." 

Fred  had  scarcely  heard  what  the  colonel  was 
saying.  He  was  so  exhausted  he  reeled  in  the 
saddle  like  a  drunken  man.  For  three  days  and 
nights  he  had  not  closed  his  eyes.  Some  of  his 
men  had  snatched  a  minute  or  two  of  sleep  at 
a  time,  but  Fred  had  not  dared  to  do  even  this. 

"Captain,"  continued  the  colonel,  kindly,  "you 
look  like  a  dead  man.  Call  in  your  men,  and  take 
a  little  rest,  as  I  bid  you." 

Fred  did  as  he  was  directed.  In  fact,  he  knew 
that  he  must  have  some  rest  or  he  would  collapse. 
Calling  in  his  men,  he  bade  them  get  some  sleep. 
Then  wrapping  Prince's  bridle  around  his  arm,  he 
threw  himself  on  the  ground,  and  in  half  a  minute 
was  sound  asleep. 

How  long  he  slept  he  never  knew.  But  he  was 
suddenly  awakened  by  the  trampling  of  horses,  the 
sharp  report  of  fire-arms,  the  clash  of  sabers,  fierce 
yells,  cries  of  terror,  curses,  and  groans.  In  fact, 
pandemonium  was  raging  around  him.  Charging 
through  the  camp  were  hundreds  of  rebel  cavalry- 
men, shooting,  cutting,  trampling  underfoot. 

Capron's  men,  bewildered,  frightened,  terror, 
stricken,  could  make  but  little  resistance.  Hun- 
dreds of  them,  leaving  their  horses  and  arms,  fled 
into  the  darkness  of  the  woods.  Others  gave  them- 
selves up,  begging  for  mercy. 

With  a  bound  Fred  was  on  Prince's  back.  He 
saw    a    shadowy    arm   make   a    grasp    for    Prince's 


132  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

bridle.  There  came  a  flash  from  Fred's  revolver, 
and  the  arm  fell  shattered  by  its  owner's  side. 

Just  then  he  heard  Darling's  voice  calling, 
"Captain,  Captain,  where  are  you?" 

"Here,"  shouted  Fred,  and  he  spurred  his  horse 
toward  the  sound.  In  the  darkness  it  was  hard  to 
tell  friend  from  foe. 

"Dick!  Dick!  where  are  you?"  shouted  Fred. 

"Here,"  answered  his  trusty  lieutenant;  and  in 
a  moment  the  two  friends  were  side  by  side. 

"Hold  on  there!"  thundered  a  Confederate  as 
he  grasped  Darling. 

Darling  seized  the  Confederate  by  the  collar, 
and  hurled  him  with  tremendous  force  from  his 
horse. 

"Come,  Captain,"  cried  the  gallant  fellow;  and 
straight  through  the  struggling,  shrieking  mass  they 
rode,  and  as  they  rode  they  emptied  their  revolvers, 
and  their  pathway  was  one  of  blood. 

As  if  maddened  by  their  escape,  the  Confeder- 
ates fired  volley  after  volley  into  the  darkness  in 
which  they  had  disappeared.  Darling's  left  arm 
suddenly  felt  as  though  pierced  by  a  red-hot  iron, 
and  his  horse  gave  a  start,  then  stumbled  and 
nearly  fell,  but  gathered  himself  and  went  on  again. 
Darling  soon  found  himself  growing  faint  from  the 
loss  of  blood.  His  horse  also  lagged,  and  he  had 
hard  work  to  spur  him  on. 

At  length  Fred,  seeing  that  Darling  had  hard 
work  to  keep  up,  said:  "What's  the  matter,  Dick? 
We  are  merely  creeping." 


STONEMAN'S  RAID.  133 

"Captain,"  he  answered,  "I  have  tried  to  keep 
it  from  you,  but  my  horse  is  sorely  hit.  I  do  not 
think  he  can  go  much  farther,  and — and  I  feel 
faint.      I  am  shot  through  the  arm." 

"Oh,  Dick!  why  didn't  you  tell  me?  Let's 
see."  And  Fred  dismounted.  They  were  in  an 
open  field,  and  day  had  already  begun  to  break,  so 
Fred  could  see  faintly.  Helping  Darling  from  his 
horse,  Fred  carefully  examined  the  wounded  arm. 
He  found  that  Darling  had  been  shot  through  the 
fleshy  part  of  the  left  arm.  Although  the  bone 
had  not  been  touched,  he  had  lost  a  great  deal  of 
blood.  The  first  thing  that  Fred  did  was  to 
stanch  the  blood.  Then  taking  a  bandage  and 
lint  from  his  saddle-roll,  he  tenderly  bound  up  the 
arm.  "Now,  old  fellow,  how  do  you  feel?"  asked 
Fred,  when  he  was  through. 

"Much  better,"  replied  Darling.  "No  surgeon 
could  have  done  it  nicer." 

They  now  turned  their  attention  to  Darling's 
horse.  The  poor  beast  seemed  to  be  in  great  dis- 
tress, and  was  trembling  violently.  Even  as  they 
were  examining  him  to  see  how  badly  he  was 
wounded,  the  horse  fell  over  dead. 

It  was  now  broad  daylight,  and  the  two  fugi- 
tives looked  at  each  other  as  if  to  ask,  "What 
next?" 

Darling  was  the  first  to  speak.  ' '  Captain, ' '  said 
he,  "mount  your  horse  and  escape.  Leave  me  to 
my  fate." 

"Never,"  replied  Fred.      "Dick,   how  can  you 


134  BATTLING  FOR   ATLANTA. 

ask  me  to  do  such  a  thing.  Did  you  ever  desert 
me  when  in  danger?" 

Darling's  lip  trembled.  ' '  Captain, ' '  he  answered, 
"the  case  was  different  with  me.  I  only  did  my 
duty." 

"And  I  shall  do  mine;  so  say  no  more." 

"Captain,  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  captured. 
If  the  rebels  find  out  they  have  taken  the  daring 
and  well-known  scout  Captain  Fred  Shackelford, 
it  may  go  hard  with  you.  Remember  how  many 
times  you  have  ridden  behind  the  Confederate  lines 
dressed  in  their  uniform.  They  will  not  know  me, 
and  I  shall  simply  be  held  as  a  prisoner." 

"Say  no  more,"  answered  Fred.  "Your  fate 
shall  be  my  fate.  But,  Darling,  there  is  no  need 
of  our  being  known  if  we  are  captured.  We  have 
no  insignia  of  rank  about  us.  We  will  be  two 
private  soldiers.  Let's  see:  I  will  be  Charlie 
Bailey,  and  you  Ed  Merchant,  both  of  Company 
B,  Third  Kentucky.  I  know  most  every  man  in 
that  company." 

Darling  could  not  help  smiling.  "All  right, 
Charlie,"  he  exclaimed;  "what  can  be  done?" 

"The  first  thing  is  to  get  out  of  this  open  field 
into  the  woods.  Once  there,  I  am  in  hopes  we 
can  elude  the  enemy  and  escape.  Then  we  may 
fall  in  with  some  of  the  boys.  I  will  help  you  on 
Prince,  and  lead  him.  The  cover  of  the  woods 
once  gained,  I  shall  feel  comparatively  safe." 

Fred  was  just  on  the  point  of  helping  Darling 
into  the  saddle,  when  they  were  startled  by  a  wild 


STONEMAN'S  RAID.  135 

hurrah  and  the  trampling  of  horses.  Looking  up, 
they  saw  a  company  of  Confederate  cavalry  sweep- 
ing down  upon  them.      Escape  was  impossible. 

"It's   no    use   to   resist,    Dick,"   groaned   Fred. 
"It  is  all  up  with  us.      We  are  prisoners." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  FALL  OF  ATLANTA. 

THE  great  cavalry  raid,  from  which  so  much 
had  been  expected,  was  a  complete  failure. 
General  Stoneman  was  a  prisoner,  together  with 
about  fifteen  hundred  men  from  his  and  McCook's 
command.  For  days  the  scattered  cavalrymen 
came  creeping  into  the  Federal  lines,  without 
horses,  without  arms ;  in  fact,  they  rejoiced  at  hav- 
ing succeeded  in  saving  themselves. 

For  days  Colonel  Capron  was  thought  to  be 
a  prisoner,  but  on  the  16th  of  August  he  found  his 
way  into  the  Union  lines  near  Marietta,  accom- 
panied by  six  of  his  soldiers.  For  two  weeks  they 
had  been  skulking  through  and  hiding  in  the  woods. 
So  many  of  the  men  who  were  thought  to  have 
been  captured  came  successively  straggling  in  that 
Fred's  friends  kept  hoping  that  he  would  appear; 
but  of  all  the  scouts,  only  Craig  and  Owens  reported. 
Both  of  them  had  escaped  in  the  darkness  when 
Capron  was  attacked,  and  after  wandering  for  a  week 
through  the  woods,  had  succeeded  in  safely  entering 
the  Federal  lines.  They  were  sure  that  Fred  and 
Darling  would  report  in  time,  but  as  day  after  day 
passed  and  nothing  was  heard  of  them,  hope  gave 

136 


THE  FALL    OF  ATLANTA.  137 

way  to  despair.  They  were  either  killed  or  prison- 
ers— which,  no  one  knew. 

Craig,  who  was  known  to  General  Sherman  as 
one  of  Fred's  most  trustworthy  men,  was  called 
into  the  presence  of  that  general  and  closely  ques- 
tioned. The  general  was  not  only  disappointed, 
but  completely  disgusted  with  the  outcome  of  the 
raid.  In  fact,  he  expressed  himself  in  nearly  the 
same  terms  as  Captain  Raymond  had  done  con- 
cerning the  cavalry.  General  Sherman  knew  he 
had  double  the  cavalry  that  Hood  had,  and  he 
thought  they  ought  to  have  accomplished  some- 
thing. 

"If  General  Garrard  had  held  Flat  Rock  against 
Wheeler,"  answered  Craig,  in  reply  to  a  question, 
"I  believe  the  raid  would  have  been  successful,  at 
least  so  far  as  destroying  the  railroad  and  getting 
back  safe  was  concerned.  The  retreat  of  General 
Garrard  enabled  Wheeler  to  throw  all  his  force  on 
Stoneman  and  McCook." 

"But  why  did  not  General  Stoneman  obey  his 
orders  to  join  McCook  at  Lovejoy  before  proceed- 
ing to  Macon?"  asked  Sherman,  in  a  quick,  impetu- 
ous tone. 

"Wheeler  barred  the  way.  I  know  Captain 
Shackelford  begged  General  Stoneman  while  he  had 
all  his  forces  united  to  attack  Wheeler,  but  the 
general  refused.  Captain  Shackelford  said  with 
Wheeler  once  destroyed,  we  could  ride  where  we 
chose. 

"The  captain  was  right,"  growled  Sherman. 


138  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Craig  then  by  request  gave  a  full  account  of 
what  happened  at  the  time  that  Stoneman  sur- 
rendered; how  Fred  begged  and  was  at  last  granted 
two  minutes  in  which  to  cut  his  way  out;  how 
seven  of  them  rode  through  the  rebel  line,  losing 
only  two  of  the  seven. 

"Still  General  Stoneman  thought  he  couldn't 
cut  his  way  through?"  queried  Sherman. 

"I  suppose  so,  as  he  surrendered,"  was  Craig's 
answer. 

"You  were  with  the  rear  guard,  were  you  not?" 
then  asked  the  general. 

"Yes,  sir;  Captain  Shackelford  had  command 
of  the  rear  guard." 

"And  you  had  no  serious  trouble  in  holding  the 
rebels  back?" 

"No,  sir;  Captain  Shackelford  managed  it  so 
admirably  that  the  rebels  feared  an  ambuscade  at 
every  turn,  and  were  very  wary  how  they  ap- 
proached us.  There  was  comparatively  little  loss  on 
the  retreat  until  Capron's  brigade  was  surprised  and 
routed." 

"And  Captain  Shackelford,  where  did  you  see 
him  last?" 

"The  night  of  the  surprise.  For  three  days 
and  nights  we  had  had  no  rest,  so  Colonel  Capron, 
thinking  we  were  out  of  danger,  called  in  the  rear 
guard.  He  assured  Captain  Shackelford  that  he 
would  have  the  command  well  picketed,  and  told 
him  to  sleep  without  fear.  Yet  no  one  knew  the 
rebels  were  near  until  they  were  in  our  midst,  cut- 


THE  FALL    OF  ATLANTA. 


J39 


ting  and  shooting.  It  was  a  complete  surprise. 
Captain  Shackelford  was  either  killed  or  captured 
at  that  time." 

"That  will  do,  Sergeant,"  replied  the  general. 
"I  have  heard  enough  of  the  pitiful  business. 
I  am  very  sorry  to  lose  Captain  Shackelford.  I  can 
only  hope  he  is  a  prisoner.  For  the  time  being, 
Sergeant,  you  will  have  com- 
mand of  my  scouts.  I  shall 
give  orders  for  you  to  be 
obeyed  as  such." 

Craig  thanked  him,  but  de- 
parted in  no  wise  elated  over 
his  promotion.  His  heart  was 
with  his  absent  captain.  He 
would  not,  could  not,  believe 
he  was  dead. 

During  the  latter  days  of 
July  and  the  earlier  days  of  August  great  changes 
had  taken  place  in  the  armies,  and  serious  heart- 
burnings had  arisen  in  consequence. 

On  the  recommendation  of  General  Sherman, 
General  O.  O.  Howard  had  been  assigned  to  the 
command  of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee,  to  succeed 
the  universally  lamented  McPherson.  This  greatly 
angered  General  Hooker,  who  as  a  major-general 
ranked  General  Howard.  The  disappointment  and 
mortification  was  greater  than  the  hero  of  Lookout 
Mountain  could  bear,  and  in  a  huff  he  tendered  his 
resignation,  which  General  Sherman  promptly 
accepted.     There  were  many  who  at  the  time,  and 


GENERAL  HOOKER. 


140  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

since,  have  thought  that  the  appointment  should 
have  gone  to  General  John  A.  Logan,  the  senior 
corps  commander  of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee, 
who  had  shown  great  skill  and  gallantry  when, 
upon  the  sudden  and  unexpected  death  of  General 
McPherson,  he  assumed  command  upon  the  battle- 
field, and  with  an  almost  disheartened  and  demoral- 
ized army  won  a  signal  and  effective  victory. 
General  Sherman,  however,  contended  that  he  was 
at  the  time  in  the  midst  of  a  critical  and  perilous 
campaign;  "had  a  bold  and  determined  foe  in  our 
immediate  front,  strongly  intrenched,"  and,  in 
short,  "had  plenty  of  hard  fighting  ahead"  ;  he  felt, 
under  the  circumstances,  that  he  must  have  in  the 
important  commands  men  who  were  "purely  and 
technically  soldiers" — that  is,  West  Point  men, 
who  were  soldiers  by  education  and  by  profession. 
At  nearly  the  same  time — that  is,  early  in 
August — General  John  M.  Palmer,  commanding 
the  Fourteenth  Corps,  one  of  the  finest  corps  in  the 
army,  caused  considerable  derangement  to  General 
Sherman's  plans  on  the  battlefield  by  declining  to 
act  under  the  orders  of  General  Schofield,  on  the 
ground  that  he  (Palmer)  ranked  Schofield.  Gen- 
eral Sherman  tried  to  show  General  Palmer  the 
error  of  his  way,  but  Palmer  refused  to  be  con- 
vinced, and  asked  to  be  relieved.  This  was 
promptly  done  by  General  Sherman,  who  selected 
General  Jefferson  C.  Davis  to  command  the  corps; 
and  upon  his  recommendation  the  President  brevet- 
ted  Davis  a  major-general,  and  assigned  him  to  the 


THE  FALL    OF  ATLANTA.  141 

command,  "and  thenceforward  (to  use  General 
Sherman's  words)  I  had  no  reason  to  complain  of 
the  slowness  or  inactivity  of  that  splendid  corps." 

General  Hooker  had  been  in  the  sulks  ever  since 
Sherman  reprimanded  him  at  Culp's  Farm.  This 
ended  Hooker's  active  work  in  the  war;  but  the 
country  will  always  have  a  kindly  remembrance  of 
"Fighting  Joe,"  and  the  story  of  his  battle  above 
the  clouds  will  be  told  long  after  many  other  more 
saguinary  and  more  effective  conflicts  of  the  war 
are  forgotten. 

On  the  27th  and  28th  of  July,  General  Sherman 
transferred  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  from  the  left 
flank  to  the  extreme  right  flank  of  the  army.  Here 
on  the  28th  Hood  made  another  desperate  assault, 
this  time  endeavoring  to  turn  the  Federal  right 
flank.  The  charge  struck  the  Fifteenth  Corps,  and 
was  bloodily  repulsed. 

In  this  battle,  known  as  the  battle  of  "Ezra 
Church,"  nearly  four  thousand  Confederates  fell, 
to  less  than  six  hundred  on  the  Federal  side. 
Among  the  Confederate  wounded  were  Generals 
Stewart,  Loring,  Brown,  and  Johnson,  which  shows 
the  desperation  with  which  these  officers  led  their 
troops.  It  was  Logan  with  his  Fifteenth  Corps 
that  mainly  fought  this  battle,  and  nobly  did  he 
and  his  men  maintain  their  reputation. 

As  soon  as  possible  after  his  return,  Craig  sought 
Captain  Hugh  Raymond,  and  told  him  of  the  fate 
of  Fred. 

He  found  that   Hugh  had  been  offered  and  had 


142  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

accepted  a  position  on  the  staff  of  General  David  S. 
Stanley,  who  had  succeeded  General  Howard  as 
commander  of  the  Fourth  Corps. 

The  news  that  Fred  was  missing  enraged  Hugh. 
Fred  had  always  been  Hugh's  beau  ideal  of  a  sol- 
dier, and  he  loved  him  as  a  brother. 

"I  told  him,"  he  cried,  "the  blamed  cavalry 
would  get  him  into  trouble,  and  that  he  would  be 
more  likely  to  see  the  inside  of  Andersonville  than 
he  would  be  to  liberate  the  prisoners  there. 
I  wouldn't  give  one  good  brigade  of  infantry  for  all 
the  cavalry  in  the  army." 

"Don't  know  about  that,"  responded  Craig; 
"the  cavalry  boys  did  some  mighty  good  fighting. 
I  must  say  this  raid  was  a  sad  fizzle,  but  that 
was  owing  more  to  the  generals  than  the  men. 
Then,  Captain,  let  me  tell  you  something.  It 
takes  more  grit  to  sit  quietly  on  a  horse  while  the 
bullets  are  zipping  around  you  than  it  does  to  hug 
the  ground.  Cavalry  to  be  effective  must  go  in  on 
a  charge.  But  what  I  should  like  to  know  is  what 
has  become  of  Captain  Shackelford." 

"So  should  I,"  exclaimed  Hugh.  "I  have 
a  mind  to  go  in  search  of  him,  if  I  can  get  permis- 
sion." 

"Here's  with  you !"  shouted  Craig.  Just  then 
an  orderly  came  up  and  told  Hugh  that  General 
Stanley  wished  to  see  him. 

In  a  moment  Hugh  came  back,  and  said:  "Big 
movement  going  on  over  on  the  right.  The  Fourth 
Corps  is  ordered  to  make  a  demonstration   to  keep 


THE  FALL    OF  ATLANTA.  1 43 

the  rebs  busy  in  our  front.  Try  to  see  me  to-mor- 
row." And  he  galloped  away,  being  now  a  mounted 
officer. 

Soon  the  roar  of  cannon  and  sputtering  of  mus- 
ketry told  that  the  demonstration  was  being  made. 

Craig  managed  to  see  Hugh  the  next  day,  and 
found  that  young  officer  engaged  in  the  delightful 
pastime  of  roasting  General  John  M.  Palmer. 

' '  What's  the  matter?"  asked  Craig.  ' ' I  thought 
Palmer  was  a  good  general.  Seems  as  though 
I  have  heard  you  sing  his  praises  more  than  once." 

"So  I  have,  so  I  have,"  answered  Hugh;  "but 
Palmer  has  too  blamed  much  dignity  for  the  good 
of  the  cause.  In  fact,  if  Palmer's  dignity  or  the 
country  had  to  suffer,  it  would  be  the  country  every 
time,  if  the  general  had  his  say." 

"What  has  happened  to  set  you  going  like 
this?"  asked  Craig. 

"When  I  left  you  yesterday,  you  remember 
I  told  you  we  had  to  make  a  demonstration  to  cover 
a  big  movement  over  on  the  right." 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

"Well,  Uncle  Billy  had  everything  fixed  to 
strike  the  Johnnies  a  telling  blow,  a  blow  which  he 
hoped  would  give  him  the  possession  of  Atlanta. 
He  placed  General  Schofield  in  command  on  the 
right,  ordering  Palmer  to  report  to  him.  Would 
you  believe  it,  Palmer  wouldn't  budge  an  inch. 
Said  he  outranked  Schofield,  and  that  Schofield 
should  report  to  him  instead  of  him  to  Schofield. 
He  persisted  in  arguing  the  question  with  Sherman, 


144  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

and  he  argued  so  long  the  whole  movement  proved 
a  failure,  and  three  or  four  hundred  of  our  boys 
were  killed  and  wounded  for  nothing.  But  then 
Palmer's  dignity  was  upheld,  and  what  are  a  few 
hundred  lives  and  the  failure  of  an  attack  to 
that?" 

"What  will  General  Sherman  do  about  it?" 
asked  Craig. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Billy  is  awful  mad!  He  tried  to 
reason  with  Palmer,  and  showed  him  that  according 
to  the  army  precedents  Schofield  outranked  him,  to 
say  nothing  about  Schofield's  being  the  commander 
of  a  department;  but  Palmer  would  not  hear  to  it, 
and  said  he  would  ask  to  be  relieved  before  he  would 
take  orders  from  Schofield ;  so  I  reckon  there  will 
be  another  resignation." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Craig.  "Why  can't  our 
generals  dwell  together  in  peace.  Now  here  are 
Hooker  and  Palmer,  both  good  generals,  and  both 
asking  to  be  relieved." 

"Who  cares?"  broke  in  Hugh;  "let  them  go. 
Just  look  at  Logan.  See  the  difference  between 
him  and  Hooker  and  Palmer.  Logan  ought  to 
have  had  the  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Ten- 
nessee. Everybody  says  so.  But  did  Logan  sulk 
and  stand  back  when  the  command  of  the  Army  of 
the  Tennessee  was  given  to  Howard?  Not  much! 
Just  see  how  he  pitched  in  and  knocked  the  stuffing 
out  of  the  rebs  at  Ezra  Church.  I  tell  you,  Logan 
is  the  boy.      Country  before  dignity  with  him." 

"You  are  right  there,  Captain.      But  to  change 


THE   FALL    OF  ATLANTA.  145 

the  subject,  what  are  we  going  to  do  about  Captain 
Shackelford?" 

"I  was  just  coming  to  that.  But,  Craig,  it's  all 
up  about  my  going  to  hunt  him  up.  I  asked  the 
general  about  it — General  Stanley,  I  mean — and  he 
nearly  killed  himself  laughing  over  what  he  called 
my  Quixotic  idea.  He  said  he  admired  my  devo- 
tion to  my  friend,  but  had  a  poor  opinion  of  my 
judgment.  In  fact,  he  denominated  it  a  piece  of 
absurd  folly.  So,  old  fellow,  you  see  it  is  all  off  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned." 

Craig's  countenance  fell.  Then  he  exclaimed : 
"By  heavens!  I  will  go  alone,  if  General  Sherman 
don't  forbid.      I  will  ask  him  right  away." 

"He  will  only  laugh  at  you,  just  as  General 
Stanley  did  at  me.     Reckon  it  is  a  foolish  idea." 

But  Craig  was  not  convinced.  He  firmly 
believed  that  if  permitted  he  could  find  out  what 
had  become  of  Fred.  But  when  he  broached  the 
subject  to  General  Sherman,  he  took  the  same 
view  of  the  matter  as  General  Stanley. 

"Why,  Sergeant,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  are  old 
enough  not  to  get  such  a  foolish  idea  in  your  head. 
Captain  Shackelford  is  either  dead  or  confined  in 
the  prison-pen  at  Macon." 

"Probably  not  in  Macon,  General,  but  in  Ander- 
sonville,"  answered  Craig,  respectfully. 

"Andersonville  is  for  private  soldiers  only," 
replied  the  general;  "officers  are  not  confined 
"there." 

"I  am  aware  of  that,  General;  but   during  the 


146  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

raid  both  Captain  Shackelford  and  Lieutenant  Dar- 
ling removed  all  insignia  of  rank  from  their  clothing; 
both  wore  the  uniforms  of  privates,  and  it  was 
agreed  between  us  that  if  captured  we  would 
know  and  address  them  as  privates.  It  was 
thought  that  it  might  go  hard  with  Captain  Shack- 
elford if  he  should  be  captured  and  be  known;  the 
rebels  are  too  well  informed  of  too  many  of  his 
doings." 

"You  are  right,  Sergeant,"  replied  the  general; 
"and  what  you  have  told  me  has  greatly  relieved 
my  mind.  The  fact  is  I  have  been  greatly  worried 
over  what  might  become  of  Shackelford  if  he  fell 
into  the  rebels'  hands.  But  that  you  can  do  him 
any  good  by  entering  the  rebel  lines  in  search  of 
him  is  preposterous." 

Craig  looked  foolish,  but  mustered  up  courage 
enough  to  say,  "But,  General,  you  have  heard  how 
Darling  and  Smith  followed  Captain  Shackelford 
and  rescued  him  from  the  hands  of  Forrest?" 

"Yes;  but  that  was  entirely  different.  If  Shack- 
elford is  in  Andersonville,  it  would  take  an  army 
to  rescue  him. " 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  neither  Craig  nor  Hugh 
went  forth  to  rescue  Fred  from  the  hands  of  his 
captors,  and  both  were  finally  wise  enough  to  see 
the  absurdity  of  what  they  proposed. 

Days  passed,  and  still  Sherman  made  little 
progress  in  his  attempt  to  take  Atlanta.  The 
north  began  to  fear  that  Atlanta,  like  Richmond, 
was  well  nigh   impregnable.     The  enemies  of  the 


THE   FALL    OF  ATLANTA.  147 

government  throughout  the  North,  and  their  names 
were  legion,  began  to  croak,  saying  that  neither 
Richmond  nor  Atlanta  would  ever  fall. 

Then  came  that  wonderful  flank  movement  to 
the  rear  of  Atlanta.  To  make  this  movement, 
General  Sherman  had  to  give  up  his  line  of  intrench- 
ments  around  the  city,  and  Hood  was  led  to 
believe  that  Sherman  was  falling  back.  Atlanta 
went  wild  with  delight  over  the  thought,  and 
a  jubilee  was  held  in  the  abandoned  Yankee  works. 
Hood  persisted  in  his  belief  that  Sherman  was  fall- 
ing back,  until  it  was  too  late  to  strike  Sherman 
a  blow  when  he  was  on  the  move. 

When  the  news  was  brought  General  Hood  that 
Jonesboro  was  threatened,  he  thought  it  was  only 
another  cavalry  raid,  and  ordered  Hardee's  corps  to 
Jonesboro  to  protect  the  railroad.  Hardee  tele- 
graphed that  a  large  force  of  infantry  was  threaten- 
ing him,  and  Hood  sent  Stephen  D.  Lee's  corps  to 
reinforce  Hardee,  with  orders  to  attack  and  drive 
the  Yankees  into  the  Flint  River,  whatsoever  the 
cost. 

In  obedience  to  this  order,  Lee  and  Hardee 
charged  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee,  and  were 
bloodily  repulsed.  General  Hood  now  completely 
lost  his  head.  He  would  not  believe  that  Sher- 
man's whole  army  was  in  his  rear.  He  thought 
that  the  movement  to  Jonesboro  was  only  a  trick  to 
induce  him  to  send  most  of  his  army  there,  and 
that  then  Sherman  would  come  out  of  his  hiding- 
place    and    storm   and  take   Atlanta.       Acting    on 


148  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

this  belief,  Hood  ordered  Lee's  corps  back  to 
Atlanta. 

Thus  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  September  found 
Hood's  army  in  a  most  critical  situation.  Hardee's 
corps  was  at  Jonesboro,  Lee's  corps  was  on  the 
march  from  Jonesboro  to  Atlanta,  and  Stewart's 
corps  in  Atlanta.  Nothing  could  have  prevented 
the  destruction  of  Hardee's  corps  if  Sherman  had 
hurled  his  whole  army  upon  it.  Then  Sherman 
could  have  placed  his  army  in  front  of  Hood's 
remaining  forces  as  they  retreated  from  Atlanta, 
and  the  defeat  of  the  Confederate  force  would  have 
been  complete. 

But  General  Sherman  failed  to  grasp  the  situa- 
tion. As  in  the  beginning  of  the  campaign  fate 
placed  Johnston  in  his  power  by  the  movement 
through  Snake  Creek  Gap,  so  now  did  fate  place 
Hood  in  his  power,  and  again  did  Sherman  fail  to 
take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  given. 

When  General  Sherman  moved  his  army  to  the 
rear  of  Atlanta,  he  was  actuated  with  the  single 
idea  of  so  thoroughly  destroying  the  railroad  south 
of  Atlanta  as  to  make  the  city  untenable.  There- 
fore instead  of  rushing  the  Fourth  Corps  and  the 
Army  of  the  Ohio  to  Jonesboro  as  early  as  possible 
to  overwhelm  the  force  there,  he  gave  orders  to 
destroy  the  railroad. 

It  was  afternoon  before  General  Sherman  awak- 
ened to  the  fact  that  only  Hardee's  corps  was  in 
Jonesboro.  Then  he  sent  swift  orders  to  both 
Stanley  and  Schofield  to  move  at  once  on   Hardee. 


THE  FALL    OF  ATLANTA. 


149 


These  generals  were  slow  to  move,  and  courier 
after  courier  was  sent  to  hurry  them  up.  Even 
General  Thomas  became  excited,  and  mounting  his 
horse,  galloped  away  to  hurry  up  Stanley. 

"Great  God!"  cried  General  Sherman;  "see 
Thomas!  he  is  actually  running  his  horse.  I  never 
saw  him  do  it  before." 

But  General  Thomas  did 
the  same  thing  at  Peach  Tree 
Creek,  where,  however,  General 
Sherman  did  not  see  him.  At 
last  Schofield  and  Stanley  were 
on  the  move.  But  precious 
time  had  been  wasted ;  Schofield 
did  not  get  into  the  fight  at  all, 
and  Stanley  was  able  to  bring 
only  one  division  to  the  field 
before  darkness  fell.  Made 
delay,  General  Thomas  ordered  General  Jefferson 
C.  Davis  to  charge  with  the  Fourteenth  Corps 
alone.  This  the  corps  did  in  the  most  gallant  style, 
making  the  only  successful  charge  that  was  made 
on  the  enemy's  breastworks  during  the  campaign. 
Two  batteries  and  a  thousand  prisoners  (Govan's 
brigade)  were  captured.  An  hour  more  of  day- 
light, and  the  whole  of  Hardee's  corps  would  have 
been  doomed.  It  would  have  been,  anyway,  if  the 
Army  of  the  Tennessee  had  only  been  ordered  to 
charge  at  the  same  time  that  the  Fourteenth  Corps 
did.  As  it  was,  Hardee  crept  away  during  the 
darkness,  leaving  his  dead  and  wounded  on  the  field. 


GEN.  JEFFERSON  C.   DAVIS. 


desperate    by    the 


150  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

During  the  night  heavy  explosions  were  heard 
in  the  direction  of  Atlanta.  The  distant,  heavy 
roar  startled  the  soldiers,  and  caused  much  uneasi- 
ness among  the  officers.  Had  Hood  attacked  the 
Twentieth  Corps  in  their  intrenchments  on  the 
Chattahoochee?  But  through  the  darkness  swift 
couriers  were  speeding  from  General  Slocum,  the 
commander  of  the  Twentieth  Corps,  to  General 
Sherman,  saying  that  General  Hood  was  blowing 
up  his  magazines,  depots,  and  locomotives,  pre- 
paratory to  evacuating  Atlanta.  The  Gate  City  of 
the  South  was  abandoned. 

The  news  flew  through  the  army  like  wildfire. 
The  Union  soldiers  heard,  and  all  the  hardships 
and  dangers  through  which  they  had  passed  were 
forgotten.  Cheer  after  cheer  swept  along  the  lines, 
rising  and  falling  in  great  waves  of  sound.  Men 
danced  and  shouted  as  if  they  had  suddenly  gone 
insane.  Bronzed  veterans  embraced  each  other, 
the  tears  running  down  their  cheeks.  The  goal  for 
which  they  had  been  striving  for  four  months  had 
been  gained.  The  prize  for  which  thousands  had 
yielded  up  their  lives  had  been  won. 

Captain  Hugh  Raymond  so  forgot  his  dignity 
that  he  turned  three  somersaults  in  swift  succes- 
sion. But  many  of  the  officers  did  worse;  they 
got  hilariously  drunk  over  the  glorious  news.  This 
latter  folly,  as  will  be  seen,  bore  bloody  fruit. 

The  Fourth  Corps  was  ordered  in  pursuit,  and 
came  up  with  the  enemy  at  Lovejoy.  Here  a  charge 
was  made  by  a  small  force,  and  nearly  five  hundred 


THE  FALL    OF  ATLANTA.  151 

soldiers  fell.  The  charge  would  never  have  been 
made  if  it  had  not  been  ordered  by  a  drunken  gen- 
eral. In  fact,  it  would  have  been  better  for  Sher- 
man's army  if  it  had  never  moved  beyond  Jones- 
boro.  But  everything  was  forgotten  in  the  glorious 
fact  that  Atlanta  was  captured. 

All  through  the  North  the  telegraph  flashed  the 
tidings.  Bells  rang  and  cannon  thundered.  The 
people  shouted  themselves  hoarse  over  the  glad 
news.  Those  who  had  watched  and  prayed  wept 
tears  of  joy.  The  croakers  for  a  time  were  silent. 
But  while  the  North  rejoiced,  the  South  wept  bit- 
ter tears  of  anguish.  So  it  is  in  this  world;  what 
brings  joy  to  one  brings  grief  to  another;  what  is 
life  to  one  is  death  to  another. 

Yes,  Atlanta  had  fallen ;  but  the  soldiers  well 
knew  that  their  work  was  not  done.  The  Con- 
federate army  was  not  destroyed.  The  gray  veter- 
ans, ragged,  hungry,  defeated  at  every  turn,  still 
faced  their  victors  defiantly.  Many  a  brave  man 
was  yet  to  fall  before  the  end  came. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PRINCE  AND  THE  MAJOR. 

HELLO,  Yanks!" 
This   was   the   salutation   given   to   Fred 
and  Darling  by  the   Confederates  as  they  galloped 
up  to  them. 

"Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  blandly  replied 
Fred.  "What  can  I  do  for  you,  though  truth  to 
tell,    I  am  not  glad  to  see  you?" 

"Well,  you  are  a  cool  one,  Yank,  anyway.  The 
first  thing  you  can  do  is  to  hand  over  them 
shootin'-irons  of  yourn." 

Fred  did  as  requested,  and  then  remarked: 
"Anything  more  I  can  do  for  you?  You  see  it 
gives  me  great  pleasure  to  oblige  you.  You  have 
such  an  insinuating  way  of  asking  a  favor,  I  could 
not  think  a  moment  of  refusing." 

"Thank  you,  Yank,  thank  you.  You  are  very 
perlite.  It  gives  me  great  happiness  to  meet  you. 
But  how  about  this  fellow?"  turning  to  Darling, 
who  was  sitting  on  his  dead  horse,  looking  the  pic- 
ture of  disgust  and  misery. 

"Oh!  my  comrade  there?  He  is  feeling  a  trifle 
down  in  the  mouth.  His  horse  was  so  unfortunate 
as  to  drop  dead,  and  some  careless  fellow  shooting 
at  random  put  a  ball  through  his  arm." 

152 


PRTNCE  AND    THE   MAJOR.  153 

"So,  so!"  answered  the  Confederate,  with 
a  grin.  "It  do  beat  all  how  heedless  some  fellows 
air.  But,  Yanks,  we  air  jest  pinin'  for  your  com- 
pany, so  you  might  as  well  come  along." 

Here  the  commander  of  the  company,  a  fine- 
looking  young  captain,  rode  up.  "Ah,  Sergeant!" 
he  exclaimed  to  the  soldier  talking  with  Fred,  "so 
you  have  bagged  two  more,  have  you?  They  will 
make  about  fifty  to  the  credit  of  the  company; 
a  pretty  nice  morning's  work." 

Just  then  his  eye  fell  on  Prince.  He  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  dismounting,  care- 
fully examined  the  horse.  Then  he  turned  abruptly 
to  Fred,  and  asked,  "Who  is  the  owner  of  this 
horse?" 

"I  am,  or  rather  was,"  answered  Fred,  giving 
the  officer  a  military  salute." 

"You,  sir — you?     Are  you  an  officer?" 

"No,  Captain;  just  a  humble  private." 

"But  who  used  to  own  that  horse — what  officer 
did  you  get  him  of?" 

"I  got  him  from  no  one,  Captain.  I  raised  him 
from  a  colt." 

The  captain  eyed  Fred  critically  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said:  "I  was  not  aware  that  privates  in 
your  army  furnished  their  own  horses,  much  less 
a  Kentucky  thoroughbred  like  this  horse." 

Then  turning  to  a  lieutenant  of  his  company,  he 
said:  "Chalmers,  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in 
heaven,  that  is  the  horse  which  nearly  cost  me  my 
life  on  Lookout  Mountain,  just  before  Chickamauga. 


154  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

I  cannot  be  mistaken.  And,"  he  added,  looking 
at  Fred  steadily,  "this  is  the  fellow  who  shot  me. 
I  know  him  now,  but  he  wore  a  Captain's  uniform 
then;  I  can  swear  to  that.  How  is  it  now" — ad- 
dressing Fred — "are  you  masquerading  as  a  pri- 
vate?" 

Fred's  feelings  can  be  imagined  as  he  listened 
to  this  speech  of  the  captain.  Yes,  he  now  knew 
that  the  officer  before  him  was  the  young  lieutenant 
he  had  shot  on  the  mountain-side  as  he  was  return- 
ing from  carrying  dispatches  to  General  McCook. 
He  supposed  that  he  had  left  him  dying,  but  here 
he  was  alive  and  apparently  well.  Fred  hardly 
knew  what  to  say  or  do,  he  was  so  entirely  taken 
by  surprise.  But  the  officer  relieved  him  by  saying : 
"Look  here,  Yank,  let  me  introduce  myself.  I  am 
Captain  Wilber  Chambers  of  the  Fourth  Georgia 
Cavalry.  That  was  a  warm  reception  you  gave  me 
on  old  Lookout.  Surely  you  remember  the  circum- 
stance. " 

Yes,  Fred  remembered  only  too  well,  but  would 
it  do  for  him  to  admit  it?  He  could  see  no  other 
way.  Captain  Chambers  knew  him  too  well ;  so 
putting  a  bold  face  on  the  matter,  he  extended  his 
hand  to  the  captain,  and  replied : 

"So  you  are  the  young  lieutenant  I  met  on  the 
side  of  Lookout.  Captain  Chambers,  I  can  truly 
say  I  was  never  more  happy  to  meet  a  man  in  the 
world.  I  have  carried  a  heavy  heart  from  that  day 
to  this  on  your  account,  for  I  have  always  supposed 
your  wound  was  mortal.      I  am  Charles  Bailey  of 


PRINCE   AND    THE  MAJOR.  155 

the  Third  Kentucky  Cavalry.  My  horse  here, 
Prince,  I  raised  from  a  colt,  and  I  am  greatly 
attached  to  him.  I  received  permission  from  the 
government  to  take  him  with  me  in  the  service. 
Owing  to  his  fleetness,  I  have  mostly  been  employed 
as  a  scout  or  acting  as  orderly  for  some  general. 
I  was  acting  as  such  the  day  I  met  you  on  Look- 
out." 

"But  you  wore  a  captain's  uniform  then," 
broke  in  Captain  Chambers;  "I  am  sure  of  it." 

"Quite  true.  In  my  duties  as  scout  I  frequently 
wore  an  officer's  uniform.  By  doing  so  I  com- 
manded more  respect  from  any  chance  parties  of 
our  soldiers  I  might  meet.  That  day  on  Lookout 
I  could  have  escaped  from  you  by  leaving  Prince. 
It  was  for  the  horse  I  fought.  But  the  fortune  of 
war  has  now  placed  me  in  your  power.  Although 
it  is  the  saddest  word  I  ever  spoke,  Captain,  allow 
me  to  present  you  with  my  horse.  A  better  one 
you  will  not  find  in  the  army.  Prince,  your  new 
master." 

Placing  the  bridle  in  Captain  Chambers's  hand, 
Fred  continued:  "Captain,  as  I  do  this,  I  have  one 
request  to  make  of  you.  When  this  war  is  over,  if 
we  be  all  alive,  will  you  not  allow  me  to  purchase 
Prince  back?  I  will  pay  you  double  what  he  is 
worth." 

Fred  would  have  said  more,  but  a  big  lump 
arose  in  his  throat,  and  he  turned  away  to  hide  his 
emotion. 

"Bailey,"  responded  the  captain,  "I  fully  appre- 


156  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

ciate  your  situation  and  your  feelings.  I  can  real- 
ize what  it  costs  you  to  give  up  such  a  horse  to  an 
enemy.  But  in  this  let  me  be  your  friend.  If  our 
lives  are  spared  and  the  horse  comes  through  all 
right,  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  grant  your 
request." 

''Thank  you,  Captain,  thank  you,"  replied 
Fred,  with  a  full  heart;  "and  this  after  I  nearly 
took  your  life." 

"Don't  let  that  trouble  you,"  answered  the 
captain,  with  a  laugh.  "I  bear  you  no  ill  will  for 
that  day's  work  on  the  mountain.  For  one  Yank, 
and  he  a  mere  boy,  to  defeat  four  Confederates, 
killing  one  and  disabling  the  other  three,  was  a  feat 
worthy  of  a  hero.  It  was  one  of  the  neatest  things 
I  ever  saw  done.  If  you  are  not  an  officer,  so 
much  the  worse  for  yow  government.  But  we 
must  be  going.  Bailey,  I  will  let  you  have  the 
pleasure  of  riding  your  horse  until  we  make  camp." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Fred;  "but  let  my 
wounded  comrade  here  ride  him." 

"Plenty  of  spare  horses,"  answered  Chambers, 
"in  camp.  We  have  captured  several  hundred  from 
you  fellows.  Here,  Johnson,"  turning  to  one  of 
his  men,  "let  this  wounded  Yank  ride  your  horse 
until  we  get  back  where   the   captured  horses  are." 

So  Fred  mounted  Prince  once  more,  but  his 
heart  was  as  heavy  as  lead,  for  the  thought  was 
continually  in  his  mind  that  it  was  the  last  ride  he 
would  ever  take  on  the   back  of  his  beloved  steed. 

The  party  soon  came  to  where  the  captured  pris- 


PRINCE  AND    THE  MAJOR.  157 

oners  and  horses  had  been  gathered  together.  The 
Confederates  were  in  high  feather,  and  loudly 
boasted  that  not  a  single  member  of  the  raiding 
party  would  escape.  But  their  boasts  quickly  came 
to  an  end  when  a  Confederate  trooper  dashed  up 
and  reported  a  large  force  of  Yankees  coming. 

The  prisoners  and  captured  horses  were  hastily 
removed  into  the  woods,  where  they  were  left 
under  a  strong  guard.  The  prisoners  were  told 
that  if  they  made  the  least  outcry  or  attempted  to 
escape,  they  would  be  shot  down  without  mercy. 
The  remaining  Confederates  formed  a  line  of  battle 
to  oppose  the  advancing  Yankees. 

The  Federals  did  not  halt  at  the  display  of  force 
before  them,  but  charged,  and  went  through  the 
Confederate  lines  like  a  whirlwind.  The  force  was 
that  of  Colonel  Adams,  which  had  become  sepa- 
rated from  the  brigade  of  Colonel  Capron.  The 
men  were  not  looking  for  victories,  but  for  escape; 
so  after  cutting  their  way  through  the  Confederate 
line,  they  continued  their  retreat. 

"I  thought,"  drily  remarked  Fred  to  a  sergeant 
who  was  guarding  them,  "that  you  told  me  you 
were  going  to  capture  every  Yankee  on  the  raid. 
Why,  you  let  that  Yankee  force  ride  over  you  as  if 
you  were  so  many  cattle." 

The  sergeant  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  con- 
tented himself  by  saying  that  they  would  treat  the 
escaping  force  the  same  way  they  had  treated 
Capron's  before  they  were  through  with  them. 

Captain  Chambers  soon  returned  to  take  charge 


158  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

of  the  prisoners,  but  he  was  not  in  the  best  of 
humor.  His  company  had  been  ridden  over,  and 
he  had  lost  several  men. 

"You  fellows  fight  like  the  devil  yet,"  he 
growled  to  Fred;  "and  we  thought  we  had  you 
completely  demoralized." 

"That  brigade  you  were  fighting,"  answered 
Fred,  "will  reach  our  lines  all  right,  see  if  it  don't." 

"I  doubt  that,"  answered  Captain  Chambers; 
but  he  did  not  argue  the  question. 

Fred,  with  the  other  prisoners,  was  taken  to 
Athens,  where  he  turned  Prince  over  to  Chambers, 
or  rather  attempted  to.  Just  as  the  captain  was 
about  to  take  possession  of  the  horse,  a  Major 
Kenyon,  the  quartermaster  of  the  division,  put  in 
an  appearance,  and  claimed  Prince  as  captured 
property. 

Major  Kenyon  was  a  handsome,  dashing  officer, 
about  thirty  years  of  age.  But  he  was  pompous, 
overbearing,  and  excessively  vain,  and  was  gener- 
ally disliked  by  those  under  him.  Captain  Cham- 
bers, while  at  one  time  acting  as  quartermaster  of 
his  regiment,  had  had  some  trouble  with  him,  and 
there  was  not  the  best  of  feeling  between  the  two 
men. 

"You  can't  have  that  horse,"  the  major  said, 
crustily,  to  Chambers;  "he  must  be  turned  over 
with  the  rest  of  the  captured  property." 

"But,  Major  Kenyon,  "  answered  the  captain, 
"it  is  customary  to  replenish  mounts  out  of  cap- 
tured property.      Mr.  Bailey  here,  the  owner  of  the 


PRINCE  AND    THE  MAJOR.  159 

horse,  kindly  presented  him  to  me,  seeing  I  once 
nearly  lost  my  life  in  trying  to  capture  him." 

"What  has  a  captured  Yank  to  do  with  what 
becomes  of  his  horse?"  snapped  the  major. 

Captain  Chambers's  face  flamed  with  anger,  and 
he  was  on  the  point  of  making  a  hot  reply,  when 
some  soldier,  a  little  in  the  rear,  sang  out:  "Oh, 
Major  Kenyon  wants  the  hoss  himself.  Trust  to 
a  quartermaster  for  taking  the  best  of  everything." 

"Arrest  that  man!  Arrest  that  man!"  cried  the 
major,  angrily.  But  no  one  knew  who  it  was  that 
yelled,  and  the  cries  of  derision  which  greeted  the 
failure  of  the  search  did  not  tend  to  appease  the 
major's  rage,  and  he  ordered  Captain  Chambers  to 
turn  over  the  horse  at  once  or  consider  himself 
under  arrest.  Just  then  the  colonel  commanding 
the  regiment  came  up,  and  Captain  Chambers 
appealed  the  matter  to  him. 

"I  well  remember,"  said  the  colonel,  "that 
episode  on  Lookout,  which  nearly  cost  Captain 
Chambers's  life.  At  that  time  I  promised  him  the 
horse  if  he  could  capture  him.  He  has  at  last 
accomplished  the  feat;  but,  Captain,"  and  he 
laughed,  "it  has  taken  you  nearly  a  year  to  do  it. 
The  fact  that  the  Yankee  owner  of  the  horse  has 
given  him  to  Chambers  gives  the  captain  no  valid 
claim  to  him.  But,  Major,"  and  he  turned  to 
Kenyon,  "it  would  be  a  neat  thing  to  let  Chambers 
have  the  horse,  and  I  trust  you  will  raise  no  objec- 
tions." 

"But    I    have   objections,"  growled   the   major. 


160  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"I  know  my  duty  and  intend  to  do  it.  Captain 
Chambers  cannot  have  that  horse." 

This  remark  was  greeted  with  groans  by  the 
men.  This  angered  the  major  still  more.  "I  think," 
he  continued,  sarcastically,  "Captain  Chambers 
should  say  as  little  as  possible  about  that  affair  on 
Lookout.  Here  is  this  stripling,  this  mere  boy," 
and  he  turned  to  Fred,  "who  single-handed  out- 
fought the  captain  and  three  of  his  men,  killing  and 
wounding  the  entire  four.  I  see  nothing  in  that 
affair  to  be  proud  of,  or  why  it  should  give  Captain 
Chambers  a  claim  on  the  horse." 

Captain  Chambers  flushed  with  anger.  "Major 
Kenyon,"  he  exclaimed,  "if  by  this  you  insin- 
uate anything  against  my  courage,  I  shall  demand 
the  satisfaction  due  from  one  gentleman  to 
another." 

"Come,  gentlemen,"  broke  in  Fred,  "there  is 
no  need  of  quarreling.  I  think  Major  Kenyon  does 
not  understand  the  case,  and  when  he  does  he  will 
promptly  apologize  to  Captain  Chambers.  That 
officer  is  not  one  whit  to  blame  for  what  happened 
on  Lookout.  I  shot  him  from  ambush ;  he  had  no 
chance." 

"Who  asked  you  for  your  opinion,  you  Yankee 
sneak?"  snarled  the  major.  "I  have  not  impugned, 
and  do  not  intend  to  impugn,  the  courage  of  Cap- 
tain Chambers;  but  I  do  claim  he  should  not  be 
rewarded  for  allowing  himself  to  be  ambushed  by 
such  a  sneaking  little  cuss  as  you." 

"You     talk    bravely     to    a    prisoner,"    quietly 


PRINCE  AND    THE   MAJOR.  161 

responded  Fred;  "if  I  were  free,  you  would  be  the 
last  one  to  insult  me." 

"I  would,  would  I?     Why?    you   puppy  you!" 

"Because  you  would  not  dare." 

"You  insolent  cur!  I  have  a  mind  to  chastise 
you,"  and  he  raised  his  hand  threateningly. 

"Major  Kenyon,  I  am  ashamed  of  you,"  ex- 
claimed the  colonel. 

"A  happy  thought  struck  Fred.  "Really, 
Major,"  Ke  remarked,  tauntingly,  "I  believe  you 
had  better  let  Captain  Chambers  have  the  horse. 
Prince  is  rather  particular  who  rides  him.  I  doubt 
if  he  would  let  you." 

At  this  there  was  a  great  laugh,  for  if  there  was 
one  thing  Major  Kenyon  was  proud  of  it  was  his 
horsemanship,  and  he  was  proud  of  showing  it  off 
on  reviews. 

The  major  grew  purple  in  the  face.  "What  do 
you  mean,  you  Yankee  whelp?"  he  roared.  "Do 
you  mean  I  am  not  a  fit  person  to  ride  a  horse  that 
a  dirty  Yankee  private  has  ridden,  or  I  don't  know 
enough  to  ride  one?" 

"I  mean,"  replied  Fred,  with  an  imperturbable 
countenance,  "that  Prince  might  throw  you  and 
hurt  you.  You  see  I  am  careful  of  your  bones, 
Major." 

"Throw  me!  throw  me!  the  best  rider  in  the 
division !  When  he  does  that,  Captain  Chambers 
may  have  him.  I  will  show  you  whether  he  can 
throw  me  or  not"  ;  and  with  these  words  he  vaulted 
into  the  saddle. 


1 62  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Prince  looked  at  Fred,  but  Captain  Shackelford 
turned  away  as  if  he  had  no  further  interest  in  the 
matter,  and  the  horse  started  off  as  gentle  as  a  plow- 
horse. 

"There,  Chambers,  you  have  lost  your  horse," 
remarked  a  brother  officer;  and  it  is  to  be  feared 
that  Captain  Chambers  swore  under  his  breath. 

"Why,  he  is  a  dandy,"  called  back  the  major; 
"the  finest  horse  I  was  ever  on;  as  easy  as  a  rock- 
ing-chair, and  as  gentle  as  'Mary's  little  lamb.'  He 
will  throw  me,  will  he?  Ha!  ha!  that's  a  good 
one"  ;    and  he  cantered  gayly  away. 

So  quiet  was  Prince  that  the  major  was  entirely 
at  ease,  and  completely  off  his  guard.  Fred  let 
the  major  get  a  hundred  yards  or  so  away,  when 
he  suddenly  gave  a  peculiar  shrill,  sharp  whistle. 
The  effect  was  magical.  Prince  gave  a  prodigious 
bound,  and  wheeled  like  a  flash,  sending  the  major 
rolling  in  the  dust.  The  horse  came  running  back, 
and  stopped  by  Fred,  trembling  with    excitement. 

The  Confederates  at  first  did  not  comprehend  the 
trick  played,  but  when  they  did,  they  made  the  air 
ring  with  their  cheers,  and  crowded  around  Prince 
in  admiration. 

As  for  the  major,  although  he  had  been  stunned, 
he  was  not  seriously  hurt,  but  his  pride  had  received 
a  nearly  fatal  wound.  His  wrath  was  fearful,  and 
he  came  limping  back,  with  his  revolver  drawn, 
swearing  he  would  shoot  both  the  horse  and  his 
dirty  Yankee  owner. 

"No,    you   don't,"    shouted   the   men;   and   the 


PRINCE    GAVE    A    PRODIGIOUS    BOUND,    AND    WHEELED 
LIKE  A    FLASH. 


PRINCE  AND    THE  MAJOR.  163 

colonel  sternly  ordered  the  irate  major  to  put  up 
his  revolver,  at  the  same  time  trying  to  suppress  his 
laughter. 

"I  will  have  justice,"  shouted  the  major,  almost 
beside  himself. 

"Well,"  responded  the  colonel,  "here  comes 
the  general;  appeal  to  him." 

General  Iverson,  the  commander  of  the  brigade, 
rode  up  and  demanded  the  cause  of  the  excitement. 

"Why,"  said  the  colonel,  "Major  Kenyon  here 
has  so  forgotten  himself  that  he  not  only  wants  to 
shoot  one  of  the  finest  horses  we  have  captured, 
but  one  of  the  prisoners  as  well — and  all  because 
the  horse  threw  him." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  general;  "Kenyon 
thrown!     I  am  surprised." 

"It  was  a  trick — a  mean,  dirty,  Yankee  trick," 
shouted  the  major;  and  of  course  the  general  had 
to  hear  the  whole  story. 

When  General  Iverson  was  fully  enlightened  as 
to  all  the  facts,  he  said:  "I  am  surprised  that  you 
gentlemen  would  think  of  quarreling  over  such 
a  thing  as  a  captured  horse.  Major,  I  reckon  you 
had  better  make  the  best  out  of  a  mighty  good  joke 
this  young  Yankee  has  played  on  you,  and  let  Cap- 
tain Chambers  have  the  horse,  as  you  promised.  It 
was  a  fair  wager,  and  you  lost." 

The  men  started  to  raise  a  cheer,  but  were 
promptly  checked  by  a  look  from  the  general. 

The  general  then  said,  sternly:  "Major  Ken- 
yon— and  you,    Captain  Chambers — don't    let    me 


164  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

hear  of  you  quarreling  over  this  horse;  if  you  do, 
it  will  be  the  worse  for  you,  remember.  As  for 
you,  Captain  Chambers,  take  your  company  and 
thoroughly  scout  the  country  in  the  wake  of  the 
retreating  Yankees.  The  woods  are  full  of  fugi- 
tives, and  you  should  be  able  to  pick  up  many  more 
prisoners.  Follow  them,  if  necessary,  clear  to  the 
Chattahoochee  River.  As  for  you,  Major  Kenyon, 
see  that  all  the  captured  property,  including  horses, 
is  gathered  together  and  taken  to  Athens."  And 
with  these  words,  the  general  turned  and  rode 
away. 

Major  Kenyon  looked  anything  but  pleased  over 
the  turn  affairs  had  taken,  and  with  a  countenance 
as  black  as  a  thunder-cloud  went  about  his  duties. 

Captain  Chambers  commanded  his  company  to 
fall  in,  and  then  riding  to  where  Fred  stood,  said: 
"Bailey,  I  shall  never  forget  that  trick  you  played 
on  the  major.  It  was  great — and  what  a  horse! 
Why,  he  knows  more  than  many  a  man!  Be 
assured  he  will  have  a  kind  master.  Blamed  if 
I  don't  feel  like  a  thief  in  taking  him  from  you. 
But  I  believe  you  would  rather  let  me  have  him 
than  Major  Kenyon." 

"That  I  would,"  answered  Fred;  "you  are 
a  gentleman;    I   can't  say  as  much  of  the  major." 

"Bailey,"  said  the  captain,  in  a  low  tone,  "I 
wish  I  could  keep  you  out  of  Andersonville;  but 
I  can't.  It's  hell  there.  You  may  hear  from  me, 
but  I  don't  see  how  I  can  do  anything  for  you  now. 
Good-bye." 


PRINCE  AND    THE  MAJOR.  165 

"Hold  a  minute,"  said  Fred,  and  going  up  to 
Prince,  he  threw  his  arms  around  his  neck  and 
gently  stroked  his  glossy  side.  "Good-bye,  old  fel- 
low, good-bye,"  he  whispered,  and  turned  away 
with  a  sore  heart ;  and  try  as  hard  as  he  might  to 
keep  them  back,  the  tears  started  unbidden  to  his 
eyes.  The  rough  troopers  saw  and  understood. 
They  thought  all  the  more  of  Fred  for  the  love  he 
bore  his  horse.  When  Fred  next  looked  up,  noth- 
ing was  seen  down  the  road  except  a  cloud  of  dust. 
Prince  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

THE  prisoners  were  kept  at  Athens  for  two  or 
three  days,  and  their  number  was  continually 
augmented  by  the  fugitives  picked  up  by  the  scout- 
ing parties  of  the  Confederates.  These  days  of  rest 
were  of  great  benefit  to  Darling,  who  was  rapidly 
recovering  from  his  wound. 

As  for  Fred,  they  passed  wearily,  and  were  full 
of  anxiety.  The  loss  of  Prince  was  a  sore  affliction ; 
it  gave  him  almost  as  much  pain  as  the  thought  of 
being  a  prisoner.  Then  there  was  the  continual 
dread  that  he  might  be  recognized.  The  trick 
that  he  had  played  on  Major  Kenyon  made  him 
a  notorious  character,  and  he  was  continually  being 
pointed  out  as  "the  Yankee  who  did  up  Major 
Kenyon."  There  was  also  danger  that  he  might 
be  inadvertently  betrayed  by  some  of  the  prisoners; 
but  he  had  managed  to  let  them  know  he  did  not 
wish  to  be  known  in  his  true  character,  and  each 
and  every  one  respected  his  wishes.  Fred  was  in 
more  danger  than  he  thought.  Major  Kenyon  had 
been  excessively  guyed  by  his  brother  officers  over 
being  thrown,  and  he  vowed  to  get  even  with  the 
Yankee  who  had  played  him  the  trick.      His  was 

166 


AN    UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  167 

a  nature  that  never  forgave  an  injury  to  his  pride. 
He  also  believed  that  for  some  reason  Fred  was 
concealing  his  true  character.  Privates  did  not  ride 
such  horses  as  Prince.  He  also  had  heard  of  Fred, 
and  knew  something  of  his  exploits.  Fred  also 
greatly  resembled  his  father,  except  in  complexion, 
and  Major  Kenyon  had  been  quick  to  notice  the 
likeness.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  General 
Shackelford,  and  believed  he  could  not  be  mistaken. 
The  evening  after  Fred's  capture,  Major  Kenyon, 
in  conversation  with  a  brother  officer,  said:  "Colo- 
nel, you  may  think  it  is  all  spite,  but  I  tell  you  the 
case  of  that  young  Yankee  calling  himself  Bailey 
should  be  carefully  looked  into.  I  do  not  believe 
his  name  is  Bailey,  neither  do  I  believe  he  is  a  pri- 
vate. Privates  don't  own  and  ride  such  horses  as 
he  rode,  and  which  he  acknowledged  to  be  one  of 
his  own  raising." 

"There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  what  you 
say,"  replied  the  colonel;  "but  if  the  fellow  is 
a  Yankee  officer,  what  object  can  he  have  in  con- 
cealing the  fact?  It  is  far  better  to  be  known  as 
an  officer  than  it  is  to  be  sent  to  that  hellhole  of 
Andersonville  as  a  private." 

"I  will  tell  you,"  responded  the  major,  "if  you 
will  promise  to  keep  mum  until  I  get  ready  to  strike. 
If  I  am  correct  in  my  suspicions,  there  will  be  a  sen- 
sation. I  cannot  act  for  a  few  days,  as  I  have  to 
report  to  Atlanta  now.  While  there  I  shall  lay  the 
matter  before  General  Hood,  and  I  think  I  shall 
have  no  trouble  in  getting  full  authority  to  act." 


1 68  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"You  speak  in  riddles,"  answered  the  colonel, 
"and  have  excited  my  curiosity.  I  readily  give 
you  the  promise  of  silence  that  you  ask.  Now, 
what  is  it?" 

"It  is  just  this :  One  of  the  best  known  and  most 
daring  scouts  of  the  Yankee  army  is  known  to  ride 
just  such  a  trained  horse  as  this  Bailey's.  This  same 
scout  has  frequently  entered  our  lines  wearing 
a  Confederate  uniform,  thus  making  himself  ame- 
nable to  arrest  and  conviction  as  a  spy.  You  have 
heard  of  that  party  of  Yankees  found  in  our  lines 
just  before  Kenesaw  was  evacuated,  and  of  their 
daring  escape?" 

"Yes;  it  was  the  talk  of  the  army.  A  more 
desperate  act  I  do  not  know  of  being  performed 
during  the  war." 

"There  is  no  doubt  that  this  fellow  who  calls 
himself  Bailey  was  the  leader  of  that  party.  That 
he  is  accustomed  to  desperate  deeds  is  shown  by 
the  way  he  wiped  out  Captain  Chambers  and  his 
little  party  on  Lookout.  I  have  no  love  for  Cham- 
bers, but  we  must  acknowledge  he  is  a  brave  man. 
This  Bailey  is  afraid  of  getting  his  neck  stretched, 
therefore  represents  himself  as  a  private." 

"You  may  be  right,"  exclaimed  the  colonel; 
"but  where  does  the  great  sensation  you  spoke  of 
come  in?" 

"I  am  coming  to  that.  If  I  am  correct  in  my 
suspicions,  who  do  you  think  this  Bailey  really  is?" 

"I  have  no  means  of  knowing." 

"He  is  no  less  a  personage  than  Captain  Fred- 


AN    UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  169 

eric  Shackelford,  chief  of  General  Sherman's  scouts 
and  spies,  and  a  son  of  General  Richard  Shackel- 
ford of  our  army." 

"You  surprise  me!  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me 
that  our  General  Shackelford  has  a  son  in  the 
Yankee  army?     Impossible!" 

"It  is  not  only  possible,  but  a  fact.  The  boy 
nearly  broke  his  father's  heart.  He  ran  away  from 
home  and  joined  Nelson  almost  at  the  beginning  of 
the  war,  and  was  of  great  help  to  that  renegade  in 
holding  Kentucky  in  the  Union.  His  father  dis- 
owned him,  but  I  have  heard  that  after  Shiloh  they 
became  reconciled.  The  boy  saved  his  life,  or 
something  to  that  effect,  at  that  battle." 

"You  may  be  mistaken  in  thinking  that  this 
Bailey  is  his  son." 

"I  think  not.  You  know  General  Shackelford, 
do  you  not?" 

"Know  him?  Who  does  not  know  him?  He 
has  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  our  best  fighting 
generals." 

"Well,  in  the  morning  take  a  good  look  at  this 
young  Bailey,  and  see  if  you  cannot  see  a  resem- 
blance to  the  general." 

"I  will  do  so;  but  if  what  you  think  is  true,  the 
general  will  not  thank  you  for  exposing  his  son,  and 
perhaps  bringing  him  to  an  ignominious  death. 
Better  let  him  rot  in  Andersonville  unknown ;  he 
can  do  us  no  more  harm." 

"Never!"  replied  Kenyon,  with  an  oath.  "I 
will   not   only   have   my   revenge,    but   I   will  gain 


170  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

a  colonel's  commission  before  this  thing  is  through. 
General  Shackelford  is  not  in  high  favor  at  Rich- 
mond, and  is  still  less  so  with  General  Hood.  Gen- 
eral Shackelford  is  well  known  as  one  of  the 
strongest  supporters  of  General  Johnston,  and  he 
has  condemned  the  course  of  General  Hood  in  the 
severest  terms.  General  Hood  believes  that  his 
failure  at  Peach  Tree  Creek  was  owing  to  the  half- 
hearted support  given  to  the  movement  by  General 
Shackelford.  I  shall  have  no  trouble  in  getting 
General  Hood's  consent  to  probe  this  matter  to  the 
bottom." 

"Major,  you  never  let  up  on  any  one  if  you  get 
after  him,"  laughed  the  officer. 

"Not  if  he  is  a  sneaking  Yankee  who  has  taught 
his  horse  tricks  to  make  a  laughing-stock  of  me. 
Hark!  just  hear  that!" 

Out  in  the  darkness  a  soldier  was  singing  the 
following  doggerel  at  the  top  of  his  voice: 

"  Majah  Kenyon  tho't  he  could  ride  a  hoss, 
Ride  a  hoss — ride  a  hoss, 
He  got  on,  only  to  tumble  off, 
Tumble  off — tumble  off." 

A  dozen  voices  took  up  the  words,  and  the  camp 
rang  with  the  refrain. 

Major  Kenyon  was  beside  himself  with  rage,  and 
rushing  to  the  officer  of  the  guard,  he  asked  that  the 
camp  be  searched,  and  every  one  of  the  offending 
singers  be  arrested  and  tied  up  by  the  thumbs.  The 
guards  sent  out  failed  to  find  the  guilty  persons,  and  all 
that  Major  Kenyon  could  do  was  to  nurse  his  wrath. 


AN   UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  17 1 

It  was  fortunate  for  Fred  that  the  major's  con- 
versation with  the  officer  had  been  overheard  by  the 
sergeant  who  had  charge  of  the  prisoners,  and  to 
whom  had  been  assigned  the  duty  of  making  out 
the  list  of  their  names,  rank,  and  regiments.  This 
sergeant  was  not  only  a  firm  friend  of  Captain 
Chambers,  but  he  cordially  hated  Major  Kenyon, 
because  he  had  once  reported  him  for  some  derelic- 
tion of  duty,  which  nearly  caused  him  the  loss  of 
his  stripes.  The  sergeant  came  secretly  to  Fred, 
told  him  what  he  had  heard,  and  said:  "I  don't 
care  a  picayune  whether  you  are  Captain  Shackel- 
ford or  not,  but  Major  Kenyon  will  never  let  up  on 
you.  He  has  made  up  his  mind  to  be  revenged 
on  you,  and  nothing  would  please  him  better  than 
to  get  the  best  of  Captain  Chambers.  It  is  fortu- 
nate for  you  that  the  major  will  be  absent  for  some 
time,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  you  can  get  ahead  of 
him.  I  have  the  making  up  of  the  list  of  prison- 
ers. If  you  say  so,  I  will  change  your  name  and 
regiment.  If  you  once  get  into  Andersonville 
under  an  assumed  name,  it  will  puzzle  Major  Ken- 
yon to  find  you.  I  am  willing  to  do  this  to  get 
even  with  him.  He  tried  to  get  me  reduced  to  the 
ranks  once,  and  if  I  can  get  even  with  him,  I  am 
going  to  do  it." 

Fred  thanked  the  sergeant  for  his  kindness,  and 
when  the  rolls  were  made  out  he  appeared  on  them 
as  Frank  Hetrick  of  Company  K,  Sixth  Indiana 
Cavalry. 

Fred   never  forgot  Sergeant   Henry  Devere  for 


172  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

the  favor  shown.  The  prisoners  were  kept  at 
Athens  for  three  days,  and  then  they  were  started 
on  their  march  for  Macon.  Owing  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  railroads  during  the  raid,  the  prisoners 
had  to  "foot  it"  all  the  way  to  Macon.  The 
weather  was  very  warm,  and  the  cavalry  boys  not 
being  accustomed  to  walking,  the  march  was  a 
very  severe  one  for  them.  But  when  they  com- 
plained, all  the  comfort  they  received  was:  "If 
you  blamed  Yanks  hadn't  tore  up  the  railroad, 
you-uns  wouldn't  have  to  'foot  it.'  Now,  walk  on, 
blame  you." 

It  was  a  dusty,  footsore,  forlorn  cavalcade  which 
entered  Macon  after  nearly  a  week's  march.  The 
sidewalks  were  crowded  with  citizens  rejoicing  to 
see  that  so  many  of  the  raiders  had  come  to  grief. 
On  the  porches  of  the  houses  stood  many  fair 
daughters  of  the  South,  but  in  their  faces  was  no 
pity  for  the  miserable  prisoners  who  were  marching 
through  the  street.  Fred  was  surprised  at  the  vio- 
lent remarks  which  he  heard  fall  from  the  lips  of 
some  of  these  fair  ones.  As  they  were  passing  one 
of  the  finest  residences  of  the  city,  Fred  noticed 
a  group  of  young  ladies  standing  on  the  porch,  who 
seemed  to  be  especially  delighted  at  their  forlorn 
appearance. 

"If  I  had  my  way,"  he  heard  one  say,  "I  would 
hang  every  one." 

"What  would  become  of  their  poor  souls  if  they 
were  hanged?"  laughed  another. 

"Souls!  souls!     I   don't   believe  Yankees  have 


AN   UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  173 

any  souls.  I  wish  they  had,  so  they  could  burn — 
burn  forever,"  and  the  speaker  stamped  her  little 
foot  in  fury. 

Among  these  girls  Fred  thought  he  recognized 
a  well-known  face.  He  stared  in  amazement,  and 
could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes.  But  he  was  not 
mistaken.  Among  that  bevy  of  fair  maidens  stood 
his  cousin,  Kate  Shackelford,  who  he  thought  was 
in  Nashville.  Kate  Shackelford  was  the  daughter 
of  Fred's  uncle,  Colonel  Charles  Shackelford,  who 
Fred  had  learned  from  a  Confederate  paper  was 
severely  wounded  during  the  fighting  in  the  Dallas 
woods.  The  home  of  Colonel  Shackelford  was  in 
Nashville,  and  Fred  had  no  knowledge  that  Kate 
had  come  south. 

So  astonished  was  he  on  seeing  her,  he  could 
only  stop  and  stare;  but  he  was  sharply  brought  to 
his  senses  by  a  prick  from  a  bayonet  and  the  rough 
command  of  a  guard  to  move  on. 

Just  then  Kate  caught  sight  of  Fred.  She 
uttered  a  little  cry  of  surprise,  started  forward  as  if 
to  speak,  but  stopped,  pressed  her  hands  to  her 
heart,  and  stood  white  and  breathless. 

Seeing  that  he  was  recognized,  Fred  raised  his 
hand  and  pressed  his  fingers  to  his  lips.  Kate  saw 
and  understood. 

"What  is  it,  Kate?"  cried  her  merry  compan- 
ions. "What  has  startled  you  so?  You  look  as  if 
you  had  seen  a  ghost." 

"I — I  thought  I  saw  some  one  among  the  pris- 
oners I  knew,  but  I  must  have  been  mistaken." 


174  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"A  lover,  Kate,  a  lover!"  the  girls  cried  in 
chorus.  "We  have  heard  you  created  havoc  with 
the  hearts  of  half  the  Yankee  officers  in  Nashville. 
Who  and  what  is  he,  Kate — a  colonel  or  a  general?" 

Kate's  lips  trembled.  "Don't,  girls,  don't," 
she  exclaimed,  in  a  faltering  voice.  "There  is  no 
lover  of  mine  among  those  prisoners;  but  somehow 
I  can't  help  pitying  those  poor  fellows;  they  have 
mothers,  wives,  and  sisters. 

"Why,  Kate,  we  thought  you  hated  the 
Yankees  worse  than  any  of  us.  What  has  come 
over  you?"  they  cried. 

"I  do  hate  them,"  she  cried;  "but  they  are 
human;  you  girls  seem  to  think  they  are  not"; 
and  she  turned  and  fled  to  her  room. 

Her  companions  looked  after  her  inquiringly. 
"She  must  have  seen  some  one  she  knew,"  they 
said  ;  but  they  little  guessed  the  true  cause  of  Kate's 
trepidation. 

Intensely  Southern  as  she  was,  there  was  noth- 
ing Kate  would  not  have  done  to  save  Fred  from 
the  horrors  of  a  prison-pen.  Had  he  not  reached  a 
helping  hand  to  her  in  her  hour  of  need,  when 
languishing  in  a  Northern  prison,  convicted  of  being 
a  spy?  Yet,  for  some  reason  which  she  did  not 
understand,  she  knew  that  Fred  did  not  wish  to 
be  known.  She  would  be  careful,  but  she  would — 
must  see  him.     With  Kate,  to  resolve  was  to  act. 

Still  another  surprise  was  in  store  for  Fred. 
Standing  in  a  group  of  officers  lounging  in  front  of 
a   hotel,    he    recognized    his    uncle,    and   with    him 


AN    UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  175 

a  cousin,  Captain  Calhoun  Pennington.  This  last 
discovery  nearly  took  away  his  breath.  Calhoun 
Pennington  was  not  only  his  cousin,  but  had  been 
his  playmate  from  childhood.  They  were  more  like 
brothers  than  cousins.  But  Calhoun  was  as  faithful 
to  the  South  as  Fred  was  to  the  Union.  Early  in 
the  war  Calhoun  joined  his  fortunes  with  those  of  the 
celebrated  raider,  John  H.  Morgan,  and  greatly  dis- 
tinguished himself  as  one  of  his  officers.  During 
Morgan's  raid  in  Ohio,  Calhoun  was  desperately 
wounded  and  taken  prisoner.  On  his  recovery 
from  his  wound,  he  made  his  escape,  and  that  was 
the  last  Fred  had  heard  of  him.  But  here  he  was 
in  Macon,  alive  and  well.  Fred  pulled  his  hat  over 
his  face,  and  passed  them  without  being  noticed. 

The  prisoners  were  corralled  in  a  large  cotton 
warehouse  until  cars  could  be  procured  to  take 
them  to  Andersonville.  As  for  Fred,  he  sought  the 
farthest  and  darkest  corner  of  the  warehouse,  wish- 
ing neither  to  see  nor  be  seen.  The  curious  gath- 
ered outside  to  see,  many  to  taunt  and  revile. 

At  length  there  Avas  quite  a  commotion  at  the 
door.  A  party  of  ladies  wished  to  see  the  prison- 
ers.    Among  them  was  Kate  Shackelford. 

With  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles,  Kate  asked 
Captain  Bainbridge,  the  officer  in  charge  of  the 
prisoners,  if  she  might  pass  among  them ;  she  was 
quite  sure  there  was  one  among  them  whom  she 
knew,  one  who  had  rendered  her  an  especial  service 
in  Nashville. 

Captain     Bainbridge    was    young;    he    had    met 


176  BATTLING    FOR  ATLANTA. 

Kate,  and    greatly    admired   her;   he  would   nearly 
have  broken  his  neck  to  oblige  her. 

"I  will  have  the  prisoners  fall  in,  Miss  Shackel- 
ford," he  said,  "and  then  you  can  pass  down  the 
line  and  pick  out  your  man." 

So  the  order  was  given  for  the  prisoners  to  fall 
in,  and  the  ladies  slowly  passed  down  the  line. 
Fred  saw  them  coming,  and  muttered:  "It's  all  up 
with  me.  I  thought  Kate  would  be  wise  enough 
to  take  a  hint,  but  it  is  evident  she  was  not." 

But  Kate  was  wiser  than  Fred  thought.  No 
sooner  did  her  eyes  rest  on  him,  than  she  pointed 
at  him,  and  said:  "That's  the  one;  but  how — how 
provoking,  his  name  has  gone  from  me.' 

"Frank  Hetrick,  Miss  Shackelford,"  said  Fred, 
stepping  forward,  and  standing  at  attention. 

"Ah,  yes!"  replied  Kate,  with  a  smile;  "I  see 
you  have  not  forgotten  me,  Frank.  Your  memory 
is  better  than  mine.  Captain,  may  I  speak  a  mo- 
ment to  the  prisoner  in  private?" 

"Certainly,  Miss  Shackelford." 

No  sooner  were  Kate  and  Fred  by  themselves 
than  she  exclaimed:  "Oh,  Fred,  Fred!  how  did 
you  come  here,  and  why  are  you  masquerading 
under  an  assumed  name?" 

"Hush,  Kate,"  said  Fred;  "don't  speak  my 
name  so  loud." 

Then  in  as  few  words  as  possible  he  told  her  all 
that  had  happened,  and  why  he  had  assumed  the 
name  of  Frank  Hetrick.  He  closed  by  saying: 
"You  see,  Kate,  how  important  it  is  that  my  iden- 


AN    UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  177 

tity  be  concealed.  This  Major  Kenyon  will  never 
rest  until  he  exposes  me.  Now,  Kate,"  he  contin- 
ued, "tell  me  all  about  yourself.  How  in  the 
world  did  you  come  to  be  here?" 

"I  heard  that  father  was  terribly  wounded,  and 
I  obtained  permission  to  pass  through  the  lines  at 
Decatur.  Cousin  Calhoun  met  me  a  short  distance 
from  Decatur;  he  was  with  Roddy's  command,  and 
escorted  me  here.  Father  was  here  in  the  hospital 
at  Macon.  I  am  happy  to  say  he  has  nearly  recov- 
ered." 

"But  Calhoun — how  did  he  come  to  meet  you?" 
asked  Fred.  "How  did  you  know  he  was  with 
Roddy?" 

Kate  hesitated.  "I — I  saw  him  in  Nashville, 
and  made  arrangements  then- — " 

"There,  Kate,"  interrupted  Fred;  "you  need 
say  no  more;   I  understand." 

"Oh,  Fred!"  almost  sobbed  Kate;  "why  will 
you  and  Calhoun  expose  yourselves  to  an  ignoble 
death?  Why  not  let  some  one  else  do  this  dan- 
gerous work?" 

"Why  did  you,  Kate?"  softly  asked  Fred.  "It 
is  because  we  love  the  cause  we  think  is  right." 

Kate's  eyes  shone.  "Fred,"  she  whispered,  "I 
could  die,  die  this  minute,  if  it  would  make  the 
South  free."  Then  she  exclaimed,  passionately: 
"Fred,  I  cannot  see  you  go  to  prison.  You  do  not 
know,  cannot  realize  what  a  dreadful  place  Ander- 
sonville  is.  I  was  down  there  two  weeks  ago. 
Oh!   it's  horrible,  horrible!"  and  she  shuddered. 


I7S  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Kate,  I  must  go.  You  must  not  try  to  do 
anything  for  me,  for  by  so  doing  you  might  put  the 
noose  around  my  neck.  Don't  let  your  father, 
Calhoun,  or  even  my  own  father,  know  you  have 
seen  me,  Kate."  And  Fred's  voice  faltered  as  he 
asked,  "Have  you  seen  father?" 

"No;  he  will  not  leave  the  front,  even  for  a  day. 
He  has  the  name  of  being  one  of  the  best  and  brav- 
est generals  in  the  army.  But  it  is  whispered  that 
General  Hood  does  not  like  him ;  he  is  known  to 
be  a  stanch  friend  of  General  Johnston." 

"Poor  father!  how  I  should  like  to  see  him. 
But,  Kate,  we  must  not  talk  much  longer.  The 
sight  of  your  face  has  done  me  good.  If  you  get 
back  to  Nashville,  you  can  tell  Mabel  Vaughn  you 
have  seen  me — no  one  else.  One  thing  more:  If 
the  records  of  Andersonville  ever  give  the  name  of 
Frank  Hetrick,  Company  K,  Sixth  Indiana  Cavalry, 
as  dead,  you  may  know  I  am  no  more." 

"Fred,"  and  Kate  blushed  slightly  as  she  asked 
the  question,  "how  is  Captain   Hugh  Raymond?" 

"Alive  and  well  the  day  before  I  left  Atlanta. 
He  is  now  on  the  staff  of  General  Stanley,  and  is 
the  same  brave,  jovial  Hugh." 

"He  is  an  impertinent  fellow.  He — he  wrote 
me  a  very  foolish  letter — as  if  I  would  correspond 
with  a  Yankee;  but  I  reckon  I  settled  him."  But 
as  she  said  it  Kate  looked  anything  but  happy. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Kate,  that  you  would  not  even 
correspond  with  him.  But  remember  the  story  we 
have  concluded  to  tell.      Now,  good-bye." 


AN   UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  179 

"Good-bye,  Fred,  and  may  God  bless  you!" 
And  Kate  turned  unconcernedly  away,  but  her 
heart  was  full. 

"You  seem  to  take  a  good  deal  of  interest  in 
that  young  Yankee,"  said  Captain  Bainbridge,  as 
Kate  thanked  him  for  his  kindness. 

' '  I  do, ' '  quietly  replied  Kate.  ' '  He  stood  guard 
over  our  house  at  Nashville  for  a  time.  Once 
I — I  was  insulted  by  a  drunken  Yankee  officer." 

"The  villain!"  exclaimed  Captain  Bainbridge. 
"I  only  wish  I  had  been  there;  he  wouldn't  have 
insulted  you  the  second  time." 

"This  boy,  this  private,"  continued  Kate, 
"promptly  knocked  the  officer  down.  You  know 
enough  of  army  regulations  to  realize  the  risk  a  pri- 
vate runs  from  striking  an  officer." 

"What  came  of  it?"  eagerly  asked  Captain  Bain- 
bridge. 

"Nothing.  The  officer  was  ashamed  to  report 
the  affair,  so  young  Hetrick  escaped ;  but  I  feel 
none  the  less  grateful  to  him.  I  wish  I  could  do 
something  for  him." 

"Miss  Shackelford,"  replied  Captain  Bainbridge, 
anxious  to  please  her,  "if  I  telegraph  to  Captain 
Wirz  asking  him  as  a  favor  to  detail  this  young  fel- 
low outside  the  stockade,  I  think  he  will  do  it.  He 
will  get  enough  to  eat  outside  and  shelter,  and  that 
means  a  great  deal  at  Andersonville." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Kate,  sweetly.  "I  shall 
remember  your  kindness,  Captain";  and  she  went 
her  way,  leaving  the  captain  in  a  happy  state  of  mind. 


I  So  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

But  Kate  did  not  know  whether  she  had  done 
a  wise  thing  for  Fred  or  not.  Would  being  detailed 
outside  of  the  stockade  make  Fred  more  liable  to 
detection?  She  did  not  know;  she  was  afraid  it 
would.  But  Captain  Bainbridge  said  it  meant  food 
and  shelter,  and  she  was  so  glad  for  that. 

As  for  Fred,  no  sooner  was  Kate  gone  than  the 
prisoners  crowded  around  him,  clamoring  to  know 
who  the  beautiful  young  lady  was,  and  what  she 
wanted. 

"Oh,"  answered  Fred,  carelessly,  "she  is 
a  young  lady  I  rescued  from  the  insults  of  a 
drunken  soldier  in  Nashville.  She  always  seemed 
very  grateful  for  the  services  I  rendered,  and  wanted 
to  know  if  she  could  do  anything  for  me." 

Kate  and  Fred  had  agreed  on  this  story  of  the 
drunken  soldier  if  questioned,  so  as  to  allay  any 
suspicions  of  relationship.  The  story  was  also  sub- 
stantially true,  as  Fred  had  once  severely  chastised 
a  soldier  who  had  rudely  accosted  her  on  the  street. 

"Well,  you  are  a  lucky  dog,"  answered  his 
questioners;  "she  is  a  beauty.  Is  she  Union  or 
Reb?" 

"Reb,  of  course,"  said  Fred  as  he  turned  away, 
not  wishing  to  continue  the  conversation  further. 

The  next  morning  the  prisoners  were  started  for 
Andersonville.  The  same  day  Major  Kenyon  put 
in  an  appearance  at  Macon.  The  major  was  of 
a  distinguished  South  Carolina  family,  and  had 
been  a  power  in  the  politics  of  his  State  before  the 
war.      He  had   seen   General    Hood,    and   had  told 


AN    UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  l8l 

him  of  his  suspicions  concerning  the  soldier  Bailey. 
General  Hood,  smarting  under  his  successive  defeats 
before  Atlanta,  and  being  greatly  enraged  over  the 
criticisms  of  some  of  his  generals,  was  more  than 
willing  to  do  anything  that  would  wound  General 
Shackelford,  for  he  felt  especially  angered  toward 
him.  Major  Kenyon  had  therefore  received  full 
authority  to  fully  investigate  the  case  of  the  soldier 
Bailey,  and  if  he  should  prove  to  be  Captain  Shack- 
elford, to  arrest  and  hold  him  for  trial. 

When  Major  Kenyon  learned  that  the  prisoners 
had  been  shipped  to  Andersonville,  he  sent  the  fol- 
lowing dispatch  to  Captain  Wirz: 

Macon,  August  14,  1864. 
To  Captain  Henry  Wirz, 

Commanding  at  Andersonville: 
Among  the  prisoners  sent  you  to-day  is  a  private  Charles 
Bailey,  Company  B,  Third  Kentucky  Cavalry.  Hold  him  in 
arrest  until  I  come,  as  I  have  good  reason  to  suspect  he  is  an 
officer,  and  a  notorious  Yankee  spy.  I  will  be  down  to-morrow 
to  look  into  the  matter.  Marion  Kenyon, 

Major,  C.  S.  A. 

But  a  couple  of  hours  earlier  Captain  Wirz  had 
received  the  following  telegram : 

Macon,  August  14,  1864. 
Captain  Henry  Wirz, 

Commanding  at  Andersonville: 
Among  the  prisoners  sent  down  to-day  is  private  Frank 
Hetrick  of  Company  K,  Sixth  Indiana  Cavalry.  If  you  will 
detail  him  on  duty  outside  of  the  stockade,  give  him  as  good  a 
position  as  you  can,  and  show  him  every  courtesy  consistent 
with  prison  discipline,  you  will  confer  a  great  favor  upon  me, 
as  well  as  upon  one  of  the  fairest  ladies  in  Macon. 

Guilford  Bainbridge, 

Captain  Commanding. 


1 82  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Veil,  veil!"  muttered  Wirz,  scratching  his  head, 
when  he  received  Major  Kenyon's  telegram,  "this 
peats  all.  Here  is  Major  Kenyon  vants  me  to  keep 
one  brisoner  to  hang,  and  Captain  Bainbridge  vants 
me  to  treat  another  like  a  shentleman." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ANDERSONVILLE. 

AMID  the  pine  forests  of  southern  Georgia  is 
situated  the  little  hamlet  of  Andersonville. 
Before  the  war  it  was  unknown  to  the  world ;  dur- 
ing the  last  year  of  the  war  it  became  a  synonym 
for  everything  horrible;  to-day  it  is  sacred  ground, 
where  reposes  the  dust  of  nearly  fourteen  thousand 
Union  soldiers. 

During  the  summer  and  fall  of  1864,  nearly  as 
many  soldiers  gave  up  their  lives  in  Andersonville 
as  were  killed  on  the  field  of  battle  in  both  Grant's 
and  Sherman's  armies.  No  tongue  can  tell,  no  pen 
can  describe,  all  the  horrors  of  Andersonville.  As 
well  try  to  depict  the  misery  of  the  infernal 
regions. 

The  train  bearing  the  prisoners  among  whom 
was  Fred  drew  up  before  the  rickety  station  at 
Andersonville  about  noon.  They  were  unloaded 
and  formed  into  line,  and  the  short  march  to  the 
stockade  began — a  march  which  so  many  thousands 
took  never  to  retrace. 

Before  the  column  entered  the  gate,  it  was 
halted,  and  a  sergeant,  a  willing  and  servile  tool  of 
Wirz,    known   as   "Wry    Neck   Smith,"    called    in 

183 


184  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

a  loud  voice  for  Private  Charles  Bailey,  of  Com- 
pany B,  Third  Kentucky  Cavalry,  to  step  to  the 
front.  Fred's  heart  gave  a  great  bound,  but  no 
one  responded  to  the  invitation. 

"Petter  step  out,"  sang  out  Captain  Wirz,  who 
held  a  telegram  in  his  hand;  "petter  step  out,  if 
you  know  what  is  goot  for  you." 

The  prisoners  looked  inquiringly  up  and  down 
the  line,  but  no  One  stepped  to  the  front. 

"Call  de  roll,"  shouted  Wirz,  his  face  red  with 
anger;  "that  tarn  spy  can't  escape  by  not  answer- 
ing to  his  name." 

The  roll  was  called,  but  to  the  astonishment  of 
Wirz  no  such  name  as  Charles  Bailey  appeared  on 
the  list.  "Veil,  das  is  strange,"  remarked  Wirz; 
and  glancing  at  another  telegram,  he  handed  it  to 
Wry  Neck  Smith,  saying:  "Call  this  one.  I  vill 
see  if  he  is  here. " 

"Private  Frank  Hetrick,  Company  K,  Sixth 
Indiana  Cavalry,"  sang  out  Smith. 

To  Fred  that  call  was  like  reading  his  death- 
warrant.  He  felt  his  limbs  grow  weak,  and  there 
was  a  choking  in  the  throat.  But  it  was  only  for 
a  moment;  then,  calm  and  collected,  without  the 
least  show  of  excitement,  he  stepped  three  paces  to 
the  front  and  stood  at  attention. 

"Sergeant,"  commanded  Wirz,  "march  the  rest 
of  the  brisoners  into  the  stockade"  :  and  Fred  saw 
his  comrades  march  away. 

Darling,  when  he  saw  Fred  called  out,  made  a 
move  as  though  he  would  join  him,  believing  that 


ANDERSON  VIL  LE.  1 85 

he  was  to  be  arrested  as  a  spy,  but  he  was  jerked 
back  into  the  ranks  by  a  comrade. 

"One  step  farther  and  you  would  have  been 
shot,"  whispered  the  comrade.  "Didn't  you  see 
one  of  the  guards  raise  his  gun?" 

' '  It  matters  little  to  me  if  I  am  shot, ' '  exclaimed 
Darling,  "if  any  evil  befalls  the  captain." 

But  Darling  had  no  time  to  see  what  was  to  be 
the  fate  of  Fred,  for  he  was  hurried  on,  and  the 
ponderous  wooden  gates — gates  over  which,  as 
over  the  entrance  of  hell,  should  have  been  written, 
"All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here" — opened, 
and  Fred's  comrades  passed  out  of  sight. 

"Come  with  me,"  grunted  Captain  Wirz  to 
Fred ;  and  he  soon  found  himself  in  the  private 
office  of  the  captain.  Here  Fred  learned,  to  his 
great  astonishment,  that  instead  of  being  consid- 
ered a  spy,  he  had  been  taken  out  of  the  ranks  for 
the  purpose  of  being  shown  especial  favor. 

"Shust  give  your  barole  not  to  try  to  escape," 
said  Captain  Wirz,  "and  I  vill  give  you  one  goot 
blace.  You  be  one  lucky  dog.  Captain  Bain- 
bridge  says  one  fair  lady  asks  that  I  use  you  veil." 
Fred  knew  at  once  that  Kate  had  been  interced- 
ing for  him,  and  he  felt  grateful  for  what  she  had 
done.  But  could  he  accept  the  conditions?  If  he 
did,  all  hopes  of  his  escape  would  be  gone,  and 
Darling  would  be  left  to  his  fate.  No;  he  could 
never  desert  his  faithful  lieutenant,  neither  could 
he  give  up  his  hopes  of  escape.  So  he  said:  "If 
I  understand  rightly,  for  these  privileges  which  you 


1 86  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

propose  giving  me  I  am  to  sign  a  parole  not  to  try 
to  escape,  or  to  help  any  one  else  to  escape." 

"Ja,  that's  it,"  answered  Captain  Wirz;  "here 
is  the  barole." 

"Captain,"  replied  Fred,  "I  thank  you  very 
much  for  your  kindness,  and  would  accept  your 
offer,  if  I  felt  that  I  could  in  honor;  but  I  cannot 
forego  any  opportunity  I  might  see  to  escape, 
neither  can  I  desert  my  comrades.  For  these 
reasons,  I  must  refuse  to  sign  the  parole." 

"Vat!  you  not  give  your  barole?"  cried  Wirz, 
in  amazement. 

"No,  Captain,  I  will  not;  I  will  starve  in  the 
stockade  with  my  comrades  first,"  replied  Fred, 
firmly. 

"Then  starve,  you  tarn  fool!"  cried  Wirz,  in 
a  rage.  Calling  to  a  guard,  he  said:  "Here,  take 
him,  take  the  tarn  fool  away;  let  him  starve  with 
the  rest.  Won't  give  your  barole,  eh?  You  will 
be  glad  to  give  it  before  many  days." 

Fred  was  at  once  hurried,  and  in  no  gentle  man- 
ner, to  the  stockade.  The  gates  opened,  and  then 
closed  upon  him.      He  was  in  Andersonville. 

Never  will  Fred  forget  the  sight  that  met  his 
gaze.  He  caught  his  breath,  and  there  was  a  mist 
before  his  eyes.  Was  he  dreaming  or  dead?  Was 
the  scene  before  him  real? 

Spread  out  before  him  was  a  field  of  some 
eighteen  or  twenty  acres,  surrounded  by  a  stockade 
of  huge  pine  logs  twenty  feet  high.  Sixteen  feet 
from  this  stockade  was  set  a  line  of  stakes,  on  top 


ANDERSONVILLE.  187 

of  which  was  nailed  a  narrow  strip.  This  was  the 
dead  line,  beyond  which  no  soldier  could  pass. 

Through  the  center  of  the  field  there  was  a  slimy 
bog,  nearly  a  hundred  yards  wide,  through  which 
ran  a  small  creek.  On  the  land  that  was  left — not 
more  than  thirteen  or  fourteen  acres — were  crowded 
and  huddled  together  over  thirty  thousand  human 
beings.  But  could  these  hairy,  emaciated  beings, 
with  parchment-like  skin  drawn  over  their  skeleton 
frames,  be  human? 

Such  misery,  such  utter  hopelessness  in  the 
human  countenance,  Fred  had  never  seen  before.  It 
was  a  sight  which  unnerved  the  stoutest  hearts,  and 
hundreds  who  entered  Andersonville  sank  into 
a  hopeless  lethargy  from  which  they  never  rallied. 

But  Fred  had  little  time  to  see;  he  was  hurried 
on  by  his  guards  until  he  reached  the  place  where 
his  comrades  were.  He  was  received  as  one  from 
the  dead.  But  when  it  was  known  that  instead  of 
being  in  any  danger  he  had  been  offered  special 
privileges,  if  he  would  give  his  parole  not  to  escape, 
their  wonder  grew.  Many  called  him  foolish  for 
not  giving  his  parole,  but  Darling  pressed  his 
hand  in  silence;  he  understood. 

As  soon  as  he  got  an  opportunity,  he  whispered : 
"Captain,  I  had  given  up  hope.  I  thought  it  was 
all  up  with  you ;  my  sorrow  was  that  I  was  not 
permitted  to  share  whatever  fate  was  yours,  but 
I  hardly  understand  it  yet." 

When  Fred  told  him  all  that  had  passed  between 
Captain  Wirz  and  himself,  Darling  said:  "It  was 


1 88  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

without  doubt  your  Cousin  Kate's  work.  The 
noble  girl  wanted  to  help  you,  and  took  that  way. 
But,  Captain,  I  do  not  believe  you  are  yet  out  of 
danger.  Major  Kenyon  telegraphing  to  Captain 
Wirz  shows  that  he  is  hot  after  you.  No  doubt  he 
will  be  down  here  looking  for  you,  and  when  he 
finds  out  that  you  have  disappeared,  there  will  be 
a  vigorous  search  for  you.  You  can  depend  on 
that." 

"What  can  be  done?"  asked  Fred. 

Darling  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said : 
"Captain,  if  I  were  you,  I  would  change  names  and 
places  with  some  one  in  another  ninety.  I  believe 
it  can  be  accomplished.  You  know  there  were 
enough  of  us  to  make  several  nineties." 

"The  suggestion  is  a  good  one,"  responded 
Fred,  "and  we  will  see  what  can  be  done." 

They  were  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  soldier 
who  somewhat  resembled  Fred,  and  who  readily 
consented  to  personate  him ;  so  the  exchange  was 
made,  and  for  the  time  being  Fred  became  William 
Goodspeed  of  Company  C,  Ninth  Michigan  Cav- 
alry. 

The  change  saved  Fred  from  detection,  for  the 
next  morning  Captain  Wirz,  accompanied  by  Major 
Kenyon  and  a  strong  guard,  entered  the  stockade. 

On  Major  Kenyon's  arrival  at  Andersonville,  he 
was  greatly  surprised  on  being  told  by  Captain  Wirz 
that  there  was  no  such  prisoner  as  Charles  Bailey  on 
the  list.  When  Wirz  told  him  of  the  other  request 
he  had  received,  asking  him  to  show  special  favor 


ANDERSONVILLE.  1 89 

to  one  Frank  Hetrick,  and  how  he  had  refused  to 
give  his  parole,  Major  Kenyon  was  at  once  inter- 
ested, and  asked  to  see  this  prisoner.  Thus  it  was 
that  they  came  to  the  stockade  looking  for  Frank 
Hetrick. 

So  the  ninety  to  which  Fred  had  been  assigned 
was  ordered  to  fall  in,  and  the  roll  was  called. 
Darling  was  well  aware  of  what  was  wanted,  and 
set  all  his  wits  at  work  to  see  if  he  could  not  put 
the  major  on  a  false  scent.  Goodspeed  was  fully 
posted  as  to  what  he  was  to  say,  how  he  had  ren- 
dered Miss  Kate  Shackelford  a  favor  in  Nashville, 
and  no  doubt  it  was  she  who,  thinking  to  do  him 
a  favor,  had  had  Captain  Bainbridge  send  the  tel- 
egram to  Captain  Wirz  asking  that  he  be  detailed 
outside  of  the  stockade. 

When  the  name  of  Frank  Hetrick  was  called, 
Goodspeed  answered  to  the  name.  He  was  asked 
to  step  to  the  front.  He  did  so  with  a  trembling 
heart,  but  to  all  appearance  was  careless  and  uncon- 
cerned. 

He  was  closely  questioned,  but  told  a  straight- 
forward story  of  his  meeting  with  Kate  Shackelford, 
and  why  she  was  interested  in  him,  but  he  vehem- 
ently denied  being  Charles  Bailey. 

Major  Kenyon  was  greatly  disappointed.  "Cap- 
tain Wirz,"  he  said,  "while  this  soldier  somewhat 
resembles  Bailey,  it  is  evident  he  is  not  the  man 
I  am  in  search  of.  Are  you  sure  this  is  the  one 
who  answered  to  the  name  of  Hetrick  when  you 
offered  to  detail  him?" 


190  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Ja,  he  is  the  one,"  answered  Wirz,  who  was 
not  a  very  close  observer. 

The  eye  of  Kenyon  happened  to  rest  on  Dar- 
ling. "Here,  fellow,"  he  exclaimed,  savagely, 
"were  you  not  with  the  soldier  who  said  his  name 
was  Bailey — the  one  who  played  that  trick  on  me 
with  his  horse?" 

"I  was,  Major,"  promptly  but  respectfully 
answered  Darling. 

"What  became  of  him?" 

"He  escaped,  Major,"  replied  Darling,  without 
a  change  of  countenance. 

"Escaped?"  roared  the  major.  "When? 
Where?" 

"The  night  before  we  left  Athens.  I  would 
have  gone  with  him  if  I   had  not  been  wounded." 

"Why  was  his  escape  not  reported?"  asked 
the  now  thoroughly  excited  major. 

"How  do  I  know?"  quietly  answered  Darling. 
"You  surely  do  not  expect  that  any  of  us  would 
report  the  escape?" 

Several  other  prisoners,  taking  their  cue  from 
what  Darling  said,  spoke  up  and  declared  they 
were  cognizant  of  Bailey's  escape,  that  he  slipped 
through  the  guards  the  night  before  they  left 
Athens.  Two  or  three  others  had  escaped  the 
same  way. 

Major  Kenyon  was  completely  nonplused,  but 
he  was  not  satisfied.  If  what  these  prisoners 
reported  was  true,  some  one  would  suffer.  But 
there  was  some  mystery  about  it  that  he  could  not 


ANDERSONVILLB.  191 

fathom;  he  would  probe  the  matter  to  the  bottom. 
He  believed  that  Miss  Kate  Shackelford  and  Cap- 
tain Bainbridge  could,  if  they  wished,  enlighten 
him.  That  Miss  Shackelford  should  show  so  much 
interest  in  a  private  soldier  who  had  simply  rescued 
her  from  the  insults  of  a  drunken  man  seemed  to 
him  improbable.  There  was  a  stronger  reason  back 
of  it  than  that. 

Major  Kenyon  went  back  to  Macon  fully 
resolved  to  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  find  out  the 
truth.  He  was  now  spurred  on  not  only  by  his 
thoughts  of  revenge,  but  by  the  fact  that  he  be- 
lieved that  a  conspiracy  existed  to  shield  a  Federal 
officer  hiding  under  an  assumed  name,  one  who  had 
been  known  to  visit  the  Confederate  lines  dressed 
in  a  Confederate  uniform.  It  would  redound  much 
to  his  credit  if  he  could  unearth  and  lay  bare  the 
whole  thing,  and  might  mean  promotion.  But  he 
had  no  time  to  put  his  ideas  into  execution,  for  at 
Macon  he  found  orders  commanding  him  to  report 
to  General  Wheeler  forthwith,  and  for  a  few  days 
his  schemes  had  to  be  neglected. 

Although  for  the  time  being  the  danger  seemed 
to  be  past,  it  was  thought  advisable  for  Fred  and 
Goodspeed  not  to  change  back,  at  least  for  some 
time. 

The  day  had  been  so  full  of  excitement  that 
neither  Fred  nor  Darling  had  paid  a  great  deal  of 
attention  to  the  place  they  were  in. 

Night  came.  The  day  had  been  intolerably  hot, 
and  the  suffering  of  the  prisoners  had  been  intense. 


192  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

An  almost  unbearable  stench  arose  from  the  ground. 
Fred  lay  down  to  sleep,  but  could  not.  On  every 
side  he  could  hear  groans  and  prayers  and  oaths. 
The  shrieks  of  the  delirious  rang  in  his  ears;  in  vain 
he  tried  to  shut  out  the  awful  sounds.  Would  the 
night  never  end ! 

"At  night  we  pray  for  the  morning,"  said  one 
of  the  prisoners  to  him,  "and  during  the  day  we 
pray  for  the  night." 

With  Fred  the  light  of  the  coming  day  was  a  relief. 

"Dick,"  he  said  to  Darling,  "this  pen  is  death. 
We  shall  have  to  escape  soon,  or,  like  the  miserable 
wretches  around  us,  we  shall  be  in  such  a  condition 
we  cannot  escape." 

Darling  glanced  at  the  high  stockade,  the  dead 
line,  the  guards  ready  and  eager  to  shoot,  the 
frowning  cannon,  and  sighed. 

"Captain,"  he  exclaimed,  despairingly,  "escape 
from  this  place  seems  impossible." 

"Yet  we  must  escape,"  answered  Fred. 

Rations  were  issued — and  such  rations !  A  huge 
wagon,  filled  with  smoking,  filthy,  dirty  mush  made 
from  corn  ground  cob  and  all,  was  driven  into  the 
stockade,  and  a  given  quantity  was  shoveled  out  to 
each  ninety. 

Nothing  was  provided  the  prisoners  to  draw 
their  rations  in ;  so  the  mush  was  shoveled  on  filthy 
blankets,  in  legs  of  old  pantaloons  tied  at  the  bot- 
tom, and  in  some  cases  dumped  on  the  ground. 

Fred  turned  away  in  disgust.  He  had  not  yet 
been  starved  enough  to  eat  the  nasty  stuff. 


ANDERSON  VILLE.  193 

He  and  Darling  walked  down  to  the  gate,  where 
those  who  had  died  during  the  night  were  laid  in 
a  row,  ready  to  be  carted  away.  In  that  ghastly 
row  Fred  counted  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven 
wasted,  emaciated  bodies,  looking  scarcely  human. 

"Great  heaven,  Captain,  must  we  come  to  this!" 
exclaimed  Darling,  in  horror. 

"No,  Dick;  we  must  get  out  of  this  hell,  or  die 
in  the  attempt." 

"Yes;  it  is  a  thousand  times  better  to  die  by 
a  bullet  than  as  these  poor  fellows  have  died,  by 
inches." 

Just  then  the  crack  of  a  gun  was  heard,  and 
with  a  shriek  a  prisoner  who  had  reached  a  little 
way  across  the  dead  line  for  a  bit  of  a  rag,  fell 
dead. 

"There  is  one  poor  fellow  who  is  out  of  the 
power  of  the  hellhounds,"  grimly  remarked  Darling. 
"Captain,  before  I  will  stay  here  and  starve,  I  will 
organize  a  force  and  charge  the  stockade.  To  die 
that  way  would  be  glorious." 

"Dick,  if  there  is  no  other  way,  I  am  with  you; 
but  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  put  any  cour- 
age into  these  starved,  hopeless  creatures." 

"Captain,  we  must  lay  our  plans  to  escape  while 
we  have  health  and  strength.  We  must  even  try 
to  eat  the  filthy  rations  to  keep  up  our  strength,  if 
possible.  Let  us  look  around  a  bit  and  see  what 
we  can  discover." 

Slowly  they  made  their  way  through  the  prison, 
carefully  making  note  of  all  they  saw. 


194  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

''Look  at  that  man,  Captain,"  suddenly  ex- 
claimed Darling,  pointing  to  a  soldier  who  looked 
much  older  than  most  of  the  prisoners.  His  hair 
and  beard  were  almost  white,  his  body  bent  and 
emaciated. 

But  what  was  remarkable  about  the  man  was  his 
countenance,  which  fairly  beamed  with  happiness. 
So  different  was  it  from  the  countenances  of  the 
other  prisoners  that  Fred  stopped  and  gazed  at  him 
in  wonder. 

He  was  busily  engaged  in  placing  some  little 
sticks  around  on  the  ground.  So  strange  were  his 
actions  that  Fred  accosted  him. 

"Ah!  gentlemen,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  pleas- 
ant smile,  "I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Will  you  not 
do  me  the  honor  of  dining  with  me?  Here,  Anna, 
darling,  set  chairs  for  the  gentlemen.  We  are 
going  to  have  quite  a  feast  to-day.  Why,  Maggie, 
what  are  you  laughing  at?  Have  some  soup,  gen- 
tlemen. No?  Fish,  then.  Now  take  a  slice  of 
this  roast  beef;  it's  superb.  This  coffee  is  deli- 
cious.     No  one  can  make  coffee  like  my  Anna." 

Thus  he  went  on  from  dish  to  dish,  all  the  time 
keeping  up  a  conversation  with  different  members 
of  his  family. 

A  great  lump  arose  in  Fred's  throat,  and  tears 
came  into  his  eyes.  It  was  more  pathetic  than 
even  the  groans  and  death-struggles  of  the  dying. 

"He  has  been  going  on  like  this  for  a  week," 
whispered  a  comrade;  "yet  he  is  happy,  perfectly 
happy,   for    he    imagines    himself    continually    sur- 


A  NDERS  ON  VILLE.  1 95 

rounded  by  his  family.  Poor  fellow!  he  will  not 
last  long." 

He  did  not.  Two  days  afterwards  he  lay  in 
the  long  row  of  dead  by  the  gate,  ready  to  be 
carted  out. 

•Sick  at  heart,  Fred  and  Darling  went  on  to  the 
bog  in  the  center  of  the  pen,  through  which  ran 
the  little  brook.  What  they  saw  was  so  indescrib- 
ably horrible  they  turned  and  fled. 

The  whole  muddy,  slimy  swamp,  nearly  a  hun- 
dred yards  wide,  seemed  to  be  alive,  moving  and 
undulating  like  some  monster  jelly-fish  of  a  dirty 
whitish  color.  The  whole  swamp  was  a  mass 
of  maggots,  and  from  it  arose  a  most  horrible 
stench. 

"Great  heavens!"  gasped  Fred;  "how  can  men 
live  in  this  place?" 

As  they  walked  back  toward  the  gate,  a  com- 
motion attracted  their  attention.  A  being  that 
once  had  been  a  stalwart  man,  but  now  was  a  living 
skeleton,  was  pleading  to  go  outside  to  see  his  wife. 
Fred  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was  delirious  with 
fever. 

"Just  let  me  go  for  one  minute,  one  little 
minute,"  he  pleaded.  "I  will  not  run  away; 
I  will  come  right  back.  Just  let  me  look  into  her 
eyes  and  kiss  her,  and  tell  her  how  much  I  love  her, 
before  I  die.  There!  there!  don't  you  hear  her? 
She  is  begging  to  come  to  me.  On  her  knees  she 
is  weeping  and  praying  to  come.  Stand  back, 
I  say!      Unhand  me!"      And  with   the   strength   of 


196  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

the  maniac  he  broke  from  those  who  were  holding 
him  and  rushed  across  the  dead  line. 

"Don't  shoot!  don't  shoot!  he  is  crazy!" 
shouted  a  thousand  voices;  but  the  report  of  a  rifle 
rang  out,  and  the  poor  fellow  lay  writhing  in  the 
sand  in  his  death  agony. 

"A  thirty  days'  furlough  forme,"  laughed  the 
guard,  as  he  blew  the  smoke  out  of  his  gun  amid 
the  oaths  and   execrations  of  ten  thousand  voices. 

"Can  these  guards  be  men,  or  are  they  demons?" 
asked  Darling. 

"The  real  demons  are  in  Richmond,"  answered 
Fred,  with  compressed  lips. 

Turning  away  from  this  pitiful  spectacle,  Fred 
and  Darling  were  startled  by  a  sudden  cry  of 
mingled  surprise  and  joy,  and  a  man  with  long, 
grizzled  hair  and  beard,  a  parchment-like  skin  drawn 
over  his  bones,  and  deep-set  eyes  that  seemed  to 
burn  like  coals  of  fire  in  his  head,  rushed  up  and 
seized  each  of  them  by  the  hand. 

Fred  looked  long  and  earnestly  in  his  face,  and 
then  he  had  his  arms  around  him,  crying:  "Smith! 
Smith!     It's  John  Smith!" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  old  man,  "it's  John 
Smith,  of  ole  Kentuck.  Oh,  Captain,  I  kin  die 
now  I  hev  set  eyes  on  yer  once  mo'." 

Then  dropping  Fred's  hand,  he  stepped  back 
and  groaned:  "O  God!  O  God !  What  war  I 
sayin'?  Glad  to  seeyerheah?  Oh,  no,  no!  Cap- 
tain, how  did  yer  ever  cum  heah  in  this  hellhole?" 

"Hush!"  exclaimed   Fred;   "don't  call  me  cap- 


don't  shoot!  don't  shoot!  he  is  crazy!" 


ANDERSONVILLE.  197 

tain;  call  me  Fred.  But  tell  me  what  has  hap- 
pened to  you  since  that  night  we  parted  on  Pigeon 
Mountain,  before  the  battle  of  Chickamauga." 

"Thar  is  not  much  to  tell,"  answered  Smith. 
"Just  before  I  reached  Negley's  lines  that  mornin' 
I  run  plump  onto  a  party  of  rebs.  I  cut  for  it,  but 
a  ball  thro'  the  ankle  brought  me  down,  an'  I  war 
a  prisoner.  I  war  first  taken  to  Libby,  then  Belle 
Isle,  then  Salisbury,  and  last  April  I  war  brought 
heah.  That's  all.  Dick,  I  see  you  got  away;  did 
you  git  thro'  all  right?" 

"I  got  through,  but  was  sorely  wounded.  The 
captain  and  I  have  had  many  a  talk  about  you,  and 
wondered  what  became  of  you.  We  missed  you, 
Smith,  and  for  months  never  went  on  a  scout  with- 
out wishing  you  were  with  us." 

"That  we  did,"  responded  Fred;  "but,  my  old 
comrade,  how  you  must  have  suffered." 

"It  does  not  matter  much,  Captain.  You  know 
I  am  only  John  Smith,  John  Smith  of  ole  Kentuck; 
but  you,  Captain,  you — oh,  how  I  hate  to  see  you 
heah !  Yet  it  has  done  my  ole  eyes  good  to  see  yer. 

"Smith,  is  there  no  way  of  escaping?" 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "A  few  hev  got 
away,"  he  answered,  "but  most  of  them  air 
caught  an'  brought  back.  I  got  away  once,  but 
the  dogs  treed  me.  I  hev  bin  thinkin'  of  tryin'  it 
agin — 'bout  made  up  my  mind  to — in  fact,  was  to 
try  it  to-morrow." 

"But  how  do  you  think  of  escaping?"  asked 
Fred.      "You  look  too  feeble  to  bear  fatigue." 


198  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

"If  I  kin  only  git  out  of  heah  and  die  free, 
I  shall  die  happy,"  the  old  man  answered.  Then 
he  told  them  how  he  hoped  to  gain  his  freedom. 
As  Fred  and  Darling  listened  they  stared  in  amaze- 
ment." 

"But  Smith,  Smith,  that  is  horrible!"  exclaimed 
Fred.      "And  will  it  work?" 

"It  has  worked  in  a  few  cases,"  answered  Smith, 
"an'  it  may  work  in  mine;  but  the  rebs  air  a  leetle 
mo'  keerful  now.  But  I  won't  try  it,  if  yo'  and 
Dick  want  me  to  stay  with  you." 

"No,  no,  Smith;  we  will  help  you;  but  it  looks 
so  impossible,  and  it's  so  horrible!"  And  Fred 
shuddered. 

What  Smith  had  proposed  was  this:  That  he 
should  feign  death  and  be  placed  with  the  dead. 
He  would  then  be  carted  out  with  them.  The 
dead  that  were  taken  out  at  night  were  not  buried 
until  the  next  morning,  and  he  might  get  a  chance 
to  slip  away  in  the  darkness.* 

"But,  Smith,  you  will  perish  from  exposure  or 
starvation,  even  if  you  succeed  in  getting  away; 
you  are  so  weak  you  can  scarcely  walk." 

"Better  die  in  the  woods  alone  than  rot  heah," 
exclaimed  the  old  man  with  vehemence. 

"I  think  you  are  right,  Smith,  and  we  will  help 
you  all  we  can.  Dick  and  I  have  made  up  our 
minds  to  escape,  or  die  in  the  attempt." 

"Yo'  can't  cum  my  trick,"  replied  Smith,  with 
something  of  his  old  humor;  "yo'  air  too  fat." 

♦This  method  of  escape  became  so  common  at  Libby  prison,  that  a 
guard  was  placed  over  the  dead. 


ANDERSONVILLE.  1 99 

The  next  evening  Fred  and  Darling  bore  the 
apparently  lifeless  body  of  the  old  scout  and  placed 
him  in  the  long  row  of  the  dead.  Not  one  in  that 
line  of  emaciated  clods  of  humanity  looked  more 
like  a  corpse  than  John  Smith.  His  long  gray  hair 
and  beard  lay  tangled  around  his  face  and  on  his 
breast.  The  vermin  swarmed  over  him,  as  they 
did  over  the  corpses  by  his  side,  and  he  lay  as  still 
as  these  inanimate  clods  of  clay. 

At  last  the  heavy  wagon  was  driven  in,  and  with 
oaths  and  jests  the  Confederates  commenced  cording 
the  dead  on  the  wagon  like  so  many  sticks  of 
wood. 

Fred  and  Darling  stood  a  little  way  off,  watch- 
ing the  men  at  their  ghastly  task  and  fairly  holding 
their  breath  in  suspense.  At  last  Smith  was 
reached,  and  his  body  was  carelessly  thrown  on 
with  the  rest. 

"Thank  God!"  whispered  Fred,  "he  is  on  top 
of  the  load;   he  cannot  be  smothered." 

At  last  all  were  on,  and  the  lumbering  wagon 
was  driven  away  with  its  grewsome  freight.  The 
gates  opened,  then  closed,  and  Fred  and  Darling 
gave  a  long  sigh  of  relief. 

"He  is  at  least  outside  of  the  stockade,"  said 
Darling. 

"Yes,"  answered  Fred;  "but  the  worst  is  to 
come.  We  can  only  hope  and  pray  that  he  may  be 
successful." 

The  next  morning  when  the  dead  were  buried, 
a  soldier  said  to   Wry   Neck  Smith,  "It  'pears  to 


200  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

me  that  thar  air  one  less  dead  Yank  heah  than  thar 
war  last  night." 

"Must  have  been  a  resurrection,  then,"  laughed 
Smith.     "Are  you  sure  you  counted  right?" 

"No;  what  do  it  matter,  anyway,  about  one 
mo'  or  less  dead  Yank?" 

"Not  much,"  answered  Smith.  "We  will  get 
them  all,  anyway,  sooner  or  later;  so  let  us  bury 
what  we  have ;  there  are  over  a  hundred  of  them. 

So  there  was  no  report  made  that  one  of  the 
corpses  had  mysteriously  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  ESCAPE. 

ALL  the  next  day,  every  time  the  gate  opened 
or  there  was  any  unusual  excitement,  Fred 
and  Darling  trembled  lest  they  might  see  Smith 
brought  back,  torn  and  mangled  by  the  dogs.  But 
as  the  day  wore  away  and  they  heard  nothing,  they 
began  to  hope  that  his  ruse  had  been  successful, 
and  that  he  had  escaped. 

"But  he  was  so  weak,"  said  Fred,  as  he  was 
discussing  the  probabilities  of  his  escape  with  Dar- 
ling, "the  dogs  may  have  dragged  him  down  and 
killed  him." 

"Or,"  remarked  Darling,  "he  may  have  died 
from  exposure  or  exhaustion.  It  must  have  been 
fearful,  his  lying  among  those  dead  men  for  hours — 
enough  to  tax  the  nerves  of  a  man  in  vigorous 
health.  Not  one  in  all  that  row  looked  more  like 
a  corpse  than  he.  It  is  no  wonder  the  rebs  were 
deceived." 

"If  it  had  not  been  for  his  great  vitality  and 
indomitable  will,  he  would  have  been  dead  long 
before  this,"  replied  Fred.  "I  hardly  see,  even  if 
he  is  not  detected,  how  he  can  have  survived  during 
the   night,  and  it  will   be  a  blessing   if  he  has   not. 


202  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Just  think  of  him  wandering  through  the  woods 
nearly  naked  and  without  food",  and  Fred  shud- 
dered. 

During  the  day  Captain  Wirz  accompanied  by 
a  Confederate  officer  entered  the  stockade.  The 
purpose  of  the  officer  was  to  try  to  obtain  recruits 
for  the  Confederate  army.  The  officer  made 
a  speech  to  the  prisoners,  telling  them  that  the 
South  was  sure  to  be  victorious;  that  Grant  would 
soon  be  in  headlong  flight  for  Washington,  and 
Sherman  for  Chattanooga. 

"Your  government,"  he  exclaimed,  "even  if  it 
wished,  can  do  nothing  for  you ;  but  it  does  not 
wish;  it  cares  nothing  for  you.  It  is  indifferent 
whether  you  live  or  die.  You  blame  us  for  your 
suffering  here;  it  is  your  own  government  that  is  to 
blame.  You  can  starve,  for  all  the  Yankee  govern- 
ment cares.  There  has  not  been  a  day  or  an  hour 
but  the  South  has  been  willing  to  exchange  prison- 
ers, but  your  government  absolutely  refuses.  Why 
should  you  be  faithful  to  a  government  that  cares 
nothing  for  you.  Abe  Lincoln  is  a  monster  [groans 
and  cries  of  'Hurrah  for  old  Abe!'  from  the  pris- 
oners]; you  can  all  starve  and  he  will  laugh." 
[Cries  of  "Who  is  starving  us?"] 

"The  Confederacy,"  continued  the  officer,  "is 
doing  the  very  best  for  you  it  can.  [Cries  of 
'That's  a  lie!']  To  show  you  that  you  are  mis- 
taken, and  that  the  Confederacy  is  kind  and  wants 
to  help  you,  I  make  you  this  most  generous  offer. 
All  of  you  who  will  enlist  in  the  Confederate  army 


THE  ESCAPE.  203 

will  be  well  cared  for  and  paid.  ['In  Confederate 
shinplasters!'  cried  the  prisoners,  derisively.]  In 
money  that  will  be  as  good  as  gold,  as  soon  as  the 
South  has  secured  her  independence." 

The  officer  stopped  a  moment  to  notice  the 
effect  of  his  words,  and  then  went  on:  "If  you 
enlist,  none  of  you  will  be  sent  to  the  front,  but 
you  will  be  placed  to  guard  inland  towns  and  pre- 
serve order  throughout  the  country.  The  Confed- 
eracy makes  you  this  most  generous  offer.  All  of 
you  that  will  accept  it,  step  to  the  front.  Remem- 
ber, none  of  you  will  be  called  upon  to  fight  against 
your  late  comrades." 

Fred  looked  with  anxious  eyes  on  the  gathered 
thousands.  All  the  misery,  the  suffering,  the  hor- 
ribleness  of  the  pen  was  before  him.  There  the 
prisoners  stood,  nearly  naked,  starving,  dying  by 
inches.  Would  not  some  of  them  accept  the  terms 
offered?  Not  a  man  moved.  The  officer  grew  very 
red  in  the  face. 

Then  one  of  the  prisoners  spoke  up:  "Colonel, 
we  can  starve,  we  can  rot,  we  can  die,  but  we  never 
can  prove  unfaithful  to  the  old  flag." 

Suddenly  a  voice  struck  up: 

"  We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham, 
Three  hundred  thousand  more, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom." 

Ten  thousand  voices  took  up  the  refrain,  and  the 
great  waves  of  sound  arose,  and  then  swelled  and 
broke  like  the  billows  of  the  ocean. 

"Tarn  Fader  Abraham!"   shouted  Wirz,  stamp- 


204  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

ing  the  ground  in  his  fury;  "I  starve  you  so  you 
can't  sing.  Rot,  you  tarn  fools,  you!"  And  amid 
the  shouts,  groans,  and  execrations  of  the  prisoners 
the  party  sought  the  refuge  of  the  gates,  and  as 
they  disappeared  the  voices  of  the  prisoners  arose 
in  one  grand,  triumphant  chorus: 

"  My  Country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  Liberty." 

Never  had  Fred  heard  "America"  sung  with 
such  pathos,  such  love  of  country  expressed  in 
every  note. 

The  great  volume  of  sound  died  away  amid  the 
tops  of  the  whispering  pines  which  surrounded  the 
stockade,  and  a  solemn  hush  came  over  the 
prison. 

Then  one  of  the  prisoners,  who  had  smuggled 
a  flag  into  the  prison  by  wrapping  it  around  his 
body  beneath  his  clothes,  pulled  aside  his  ragged 
shirt  and  showed  his  treasure.  Hundreds  crowded 
around  him  and  touched  the  flag  lovingly  with  their 
fingers.     To  them  it  was  holy. 

"Oh,  say,  can  you  see  by  the  dawn's  early  light, 

What  so  proudly  we  hailed  at  the  twilight's  last  gleaming?" 

sang  a  voice. 

Once  more  the  prisoners  took  up  the  words,  and 
ten  thousand  voices  sang  the  praises  of  the  old  flag. 
As  the  last  note  died  away,  cheer  after  cheer  rent 
the  air. 

Outside,  Wirz  was  raging  like  a  wild  beast.  He 
gave  a  command,  the  bugles  blew,  and  the  Confed- 


THE  ESCAPE.  205 

erate  soldiers  rushed  to  the  stockade  and  took  their 
station  on  the  embankment  surrounding  it.  Then 
a  cannon  roared,  and  a  shell  went  shrieking  over 
the  prison,  and  burst  in  the  woods  beyond. 

The  prisoners  stood  as  if  petrified.  They 
expected  that  the  stockade  would  be  swept  with 
a  storm  of  shell  and  canister,  as  Wirz  had  so  often 
threatened ;  but  he  gratified  his  little  soul  by  thor- 
oughly frightening  the  prisoners. 

When  the  camp  had  been  restored  to  its  usual 
quiet,  Fred  said  to  Darling:  "Dick,  never  have 
I  seen,  never  have  I  known  what  patriotism  is  until 
now.  Talk  of  charging  to  the  flaming  mouth  of 
the  cannon !  What  is  that,  when  it  is  done  in  the 
fierce  excitement  of  battle,  to  these  starving 
wretches  refusing  food  and  life?  Dying  by  inches, 
suffering  the  tortures  of  the  damned,  yet  with  their 
expiring  breath  they  sing  songs  of  praise  to  the  old 
flag,  and  their  last  thought  is  of  their  country." 

"In  years  to  come,"  replied  Darling,  in 
a  broken  voice,  "the  story  of  Andersonville  will 
not  only  thrill  America,  but  the  whole  world,  with 
horror.  But  amid  the  horror  there  will  stand  forth 
the  brightest  page  of  patriotism,  of  fidelity,  of 
devotion  to  principle,  the  world  has  ever  seen.  To 
die  in  battle  is  grand ;  to  die  in  Andersonville  is 
sublime." 

Both  were  silent  for  a  time,  and  then  Darling 
said,  "Captain,  must  we  be  among  those  who  die 
here?" 

"Never,    never!"    answered   Fred,  with   terrible 


206  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

emphasis;  "at  least  not  by  slow  torture.      If  die  we 
must,  let  it  be  in  an  attempt  to  escape." 

"Amen!"  responded  Darling. 

"I  did  think,"  continued  Fred,  "that  we  might 
get  detailed  in  one  of  the  squads  which  go  out  for 
wood,  and  then  make  a  break  for  liberty.  But 
I  learn  that  every  one  who  goes  out  for  wood  must 
give  his  parole  not  to  try  to  escape,  and  I  do  not 
feel  like  breaking  my  parole  of  honor.  Moreover, 
to  break  away  from  the  guards  while  after  wood 
would  bring  instant  pursuit.  Is  there  not  some 
way  we  can  scale  the  stockade?" 

"It  is  twenty  feet  high,"  replied  Darling,  in 
a  despairing  voice,  as  he  glanced  at  the  wooden 
walls  that  shut  them  in,  "and  unfortunately  we 
have  not  wings." 

"Let  us  walk  around  the  stockade,"  said  Fred, 
"as  close  to  the  dead  line  as  we  can  without 
attracting  attention,  and  see  what  we  can  discover." 

"Agreed,"  answered  Darling;  and  they  slowly 
began  the  weary  round. 

Short  as  had  been  their  imprisonment,  it  had 
already  begun  to  tell  on  them.  Then  the  misery 
they  saw  around  them  had  a  stupefying  effect ;  it 
was  almost  like  receiving  a  blow  on  the  head.  It 
is  said  that  many  soldiers  who  entered  Anderson- 
ville  were  so  shocked  at  the  horrors  they  saw  that 
they  never  rallied,  but  pined  away  and  died  as  if 
smitten  by  a  deadly  plague. 

On  the  east  side  of  the  stockade,  near  where  the 
creek  flowed  out,  Fred  noticed  that  at  the  top  of 


THE  ESCAPE.  207 

the  stockade  two  of  the  logs  did  not  fit  tightly 
together,  leaving  an  opening  some  two  inches  wide 
and  extending  downward  some  two  feet.  Fred 
gave  Darling's  arm  a  convulsive  grasp. 

"See,  Dick,"  he  whispered;  "see  those  two 
logs  which  do  not  quite  join  at  the  top." 

"Yes,"  replied  Darling,  "but  what  of  it?  What 
good  can  that  little  crack  do  us?" 

"Don't  you  see,"  answered  Fred,  trembling  in 
his  excitement,  "that  a  rope  with  a  large  knot  on 
the  end  would  hold  in  that  crack,  and  enable  us  to 
reach  the  top?' ' 

Darling  started  as  if  shot.  "Captain,"  he 
exclaimed,  "you  are  right."  Then  his  countenance 
fell,  and  he  continued  in  a  despairing  tone,  "But 
where  is  our  rope — and  if  we  had  one,  could  we  catch 
it  in  that  narrow  opening?  And  what  would  the 
guards  be  doing  while  we  were  trying  to  fasten  the 
rope?" 

"We  can  only  hope,"  calmly  answered  Fred; 
"let  us  not  conjure  up  lions  in  our  path  until  we 
meet  them.  This  is  the  only  plan  that  I  have 
thought  of  that  has  even,  the  slightest  probability 
of  success.  Full  of  danger  as  it  is,  we  must  try  it. 
As  for  a  rope,  we  shall  find  some  way  of  making 
one." 

"Captain,"  answered  Darling,  "I  am  ashamed 
of  my  doubts.  I  am  with  you  to  the  end.  I  believe 
you  have  solved  the  problem  of  escaping." 

Full  of  their  determination  to  escape,  they  at 
once  began  to  lay  their  plans.      It  was  fully  agreed 


208  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

that  they  would  say  nothing  to  any  one.  It  was 
well  known  that  the  prison  was  full  of  spies,  anxious 
to  report  any  attempt  to  escape,  for  by  so  doing 
they  would  curry  favor  with  Wirz,  and  be  granted 
special  privileges. 

The  next  day  Fred  and  Darling  managed  to  get 
on  the  detail  to  go  and  gather  wood.  They  had 
taken  careful  note  of  the  place  in  the  stockade 
where  they  would  attempt  to  scale  it,  and  they 
were  anxious  to  note  the  lay  of  the  country  on  the 
outside. 

Fortunately,  they  gathered  wood  on  that  side  of 
the  stockade.  Fred  took  careful  note  of  the  sur- 
roundings. He  looked  over  the  ground  carefully, 
and  then  shut  his  eyes  and  tried  to  think  just  how 
it  was.  This  he  did  again  and  again,  until  the 
scene  was  photographed,  as  it  were,  on  his  memory. 

They  were  chopping  close  to  the  edge  of  the 
swamp  that  bordered  the  creek  which  flowed 
through  the  prison,  when  suddenly  the  ax  with 
which  Fred  was  chopping  flew  off  the  handle,  fall- 
ing close  to  the  edge  of  the  swamp. 

One  of  the  guards  noticed  it,  and  laughingly 
said:  "Better  fasten  that  axon  tighter,  Yank,  or 
you-uns  will  get  your  head  busted." 

Fred  picked  up  the  ax,  and  sticking  it  back  on 
the  handle,  began  to  make  a  wedge  to  hold  it  on. 
Suddenly  it  flashed  through  his  mind,  "Here 
is  a  chance  to  get  an  ax,  and  it  may  stand  us  in 
good  stead  as  a  weapon,  or  be  useful  in  digging." 

If  their  plans  to  scale  the  stockade  proved  unsuc- 


THE  ESCAPE.  209 

cessful,  Fred  and   Darling  had   determined   to  try 
tunneling,  and   for  this  the  ax  would  be  invaluable. 

Borrowing  Darling's  ax  for  the  pretended  pur- 
pose of  driving  in  the  wedge,  Fred  whispered : 
"Dick,  I  am  going  to  have  this  ax  come  off  again. 
Watch  your  chance,  pick  it  up,  and  conceal  it  in 
your  bosom.      Leave  the  rest  to  me." 

Darling  nodded;  but  how  Fred  was  to  account 
for  the  loss  of  the  ax  he  did  not  understand. 

In  a  moment  the  ax  came  off  again,  and  this 
time  fell  close  to  where  Darling  was,  and  the  guard 
happened  to  be  looking  the  other  way.  Darling 
snatched  up  the  ax,  and  placed  it  in  his  bosom, 
and  then  chopped  away  very  industriously.  Fred 
picked  up  a  stick,  and  commenced  poking  in  the 
mud  in  the  edge  of  the  swamp. 

"Here,  Yank,  what  air  you-uns  doin'  thar?" 
yelled  the  guard. 

"That  confounded  ax  has  come  off  again,  and 
flew  here  in  the  mud,"  answered  Fred  continuing 
his  poking. 

The  guard  uttered  an  oath.  "See  heah,  Yank,  if 
you-uns  hev  lost  that  'ere  ax,  I  will  catch  thunder. 
I  hev  a  mind  to  chuck  you-uns  in  the  mud  after  it. ' ' 

"I  am  not  to  blame,"  meekly  answered  Fred, 
continuing  his  search. 

The  guard  came  to  his  aid,  and  the  mud  was 
thoroughly  probed,  but  no  ax  was  found. 

"Must  hev  flew  farther  than  you-uns  think, 
Yank,"  remarked  the  guard. 

"Perhaps  it  did,  but   I  thought  it  struck  right 


2IO  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

here,"  and  Fred  designated  the  place  by  punching 
in  the  mud  with  his  stick. 

"No  use,  Yank,"  said  the  guard  at  length;  "it 
is  a  goner.  And  see  heah,  thar  is  no  use  sayin' 
a  word  about  losin'  that  'ere  ax.  Old  Wirz  would 
make  a  bigger  fuss  than  if  I  would  kill  a  hundred 
of  you  fellers.  I  don't  want  him  climbing  on  my 
neck.  Stick  the  handle  in  the  mud  after  the  ax, 
and  let  old  Wirz  find  out  one  is  missin'  if  he  can." 

"All  right,"  responded  Fred;  and  suiting  the 
action  to  his  words,  he  thrust  the  handle  in  the 
mud  out  of  sight. 

"Now,  blame  you,  keep  mum,  or  I'll  shoot  yer 
head  off,"  exclaimed  the  guard,  threateningly. 

"Mum  is  the  word,"  answered  Fred.  "What 
in  the  world  should  I  want  to  say  anything  for?  It 
would  only  get  me  into  trouble  as  well  as  you." 

Taking  up  the  wood,  which  the  prisoners  were 
obliged  to  pack  on  their  backs,  as  Wirz  refused  to 
furnish  teams  to  haul  it,  the  choppers  made  their 
way  back  to  the  stockade. 

Captain  Wirz  noticed  Fred  as  he  passed  stagger- 
ing under  his  load,  and  grinning,  said:  "How  you 
like  it?  Wouldn't  give  your  barole,  eh?    Tarn  fool." 

Fred  did  not  reply  to  the  brute,  but  thought, 
"I  may  surprise  you  yet,  old  fellow,  and  not  be  as 
big  a  fool  as  you  think. 

That  night  Fred  and  Darling  fitted  a  short  han- 
dle in  their  ax,  making  it  a  weapon  of  no  mean 
worth. 

The  next  day  they   began  a  search   for  suitable 


THE  ESCAPE.  21 1 

material  for  a  rope.  Both  of  them  had  managed  to 
secrete  a  considerable  sum  of  money  when  they  were 
taken  prisoners,  and  this  now  came  into  good  play. 
By  paying  a  fabulous  price,  they  managed  to  secure 
two  shelter  tents,  also  a  pocketknife.  The  can- 
vas of  which  the  shelter  tents  were  made  was  strong 
and  well  suited  for  the  purpose  for  which  they 
intended  it. 

When  night  came,  they  tore  the  tents  into 
strips,  and  these  strips  they  twisted  into  a  strong, 
serviceable  rope.  On  one  end  of  the  rope  a  large 
knot  was  tied,  and  inside  the  knot  a  stone  was 
secured,  to  give  the  rope  sufficient  weight  to  be 
thrown  easily. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Fred,  when  the  job  was 
finished;  "if  we  can  get  the  rope  into  that  opening 
between  the  logs,  it  will  hold,  and  the  rest  will  be 
easy." 

"If  we  are  not  stopped  by  a  bullet,"  dryly 
remarked  Darling. 

They  now  only  had  to  wait  for  a  night  suitable 
for  their  undertaking.  Fred  had  carefully  noted 
the  place  in  the  stockade,  and  he  believed  he  could 
find  it  in  the  darkest  night.  Two  days  passed 
before  a  night  came  suitable  for  their  purpose.  In 
the  meantime,  they  had  succeeded  in  purchasing 
some  corn  bread  of  a  guard,  which  they  concealed 
to  take  with  them. 

The  second  night  came,  and  with  it  a  terrific 
storm.  The  heavy  rain  extinguished  the  fires  and 
left  the  whole  camp  in  darkness.     The  little  creek 


212  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

that  ran  through  the  ground  became  a  rushing 
torrent.  The  prisoners,  chilled  and  benumbed  with 
the  drenching  rain,  lay  in  their  wretched  shelters, 
or  curled  up  in  the  holes  they  had  dug  in  the 
ground. 

At  first  there  was  lightning,  and  it  was  useless 
to  try  to  make  their  escape  when,  at  any  moment, 
a  blaze  of  light  might  reveal  what  they  were  doing. 
At  last  the  lightning  ceased  to  play  and  the  thunder 
died  away  in  the  distance,  but  the  sky  still  contin- 
ued to  be  overcast  with  dark  clouds,  and  a  drizzling 
rain  fell. 

When  Fred  and  Darling  saw  what  kind  of 
a  night  it  was,  they  hastily  made  their  preparations 
for  their  escape.  So  careful  had  they  been  that 
their  nearest  comrades  had  no  idea  of  their  inten- 
tion. Fred  had  the  rope  wound  round  his  body 
under  his  shirt.  Darling  carried  the  ax,  wrapped 
in  a  piece  of  cloth,  next  to  his  body.  All  the  pro- 
visions they  had  was  corn  bread,  which  they  carried 
in  their  pockets. 

Just  as  darkness  was  falling,  they  made  their 
way  near  to  the  place  in  the  stockade.  They  were 
roughly  accosted  two  or  three  times,  and  asked 
what  they  were  doing  away  from  their  detachments, 
but  by  moving  a  little  they  managed  to  escape  any 
unpleasant  questioning,  and  when  darkness  came 
and  the  storm  broke  in  all  its  violence,  they  were 
left  in  peace. 

They  lay  down  as  near  the  dead  line  as  they 
dared,    and   waited    for    a    favorable    opportunity. 


THE  ESCAPE.  213 

Wearily  the  hours  passed.  Would  the  lightning 
never  cease?  They  were  soaked  to  the  skin,  and 
shivered  with  the  cold.  It  was  one  o'clock  before 
the  favorable  opportunity  came.  Then  cold  and 
wet  were  forgotten.  The  excitement  of  the  moment 
sent  the  blood  flying  through  their  veins. 

"Now,"  whispered   Fred. 

Crawling  like  snakes,  they  were  soon  past  the 
fatal  dead  line.  A  few  feet  more  and  they  would 
be  in  the  shelter  of  the  palisades.  They  heard  the 
cough  of  a  guard,  then  his  footsteps.  The  foot- 
steps ceased;  the  guard  had  halted.  Their  hearts 
ceased  to  beat;   had  they  been  discovered? 

No;  the  guard  walked  on  again.  A  moment 
more,  and  they  were  by  the  side  of  the  stockade. 
The  guard  could  not  see  them  now  unless  he  stooped 
and  peered  over  the  timbers. 

Crouching  close  to  the  ground,  they  listened 
intently.  At  length  they  heard  the  footsteps  of 
the  guard  returning.  He  was  muttering  to  himself 
and  cursing  the  weather.  Meeting  the  guard  com- 
ing from  the  other  way,  Fred  was  delighted  to  hear 
one  of  them  say: 

' '  What's  the  use  of  we-uns  pacing  back  and  forth 
in  this  blasted  weather.  No  Yank  will  be  stirring 
in  such  a  storm.  We-uns  might  as  well  stay  in  our 
shelter." 

"That's  what  I  was  thinkin',"  replied  the  other 
guard;  "let's  get  in  the  dry."  And  both  of  them 
sought  the  shelter  of  the  little  houses  built  for  the 
use  of  the  guards. 


214  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Now  is  our  time,"  whispered  Fred.  "Fortune 
so  far  is  with  us." 

Unwinding  the  rope  from  his  body,  Fred  lightly 
threw  the  knotted  end  over  the  stockade.  He 
then  gently  pulled,  and  to  his  chagrin  it  fell  back 
into  his  hands.  He  tried  it  again  and  again,  but 
with  no  better  results.  Beads  of  perspiration  started 
out  on  his  forehead,  a  great  fear  took  hold  of  his 
heart,  the  fear  that  he  might  be  unable  to  make  the 
rope  hold. 

"Are  you  sure  you  are  in  the  right  place?" 
whispered  Darling;  "try  it  a  little  more  to  the 
right." 

Fred  did  so,  but  with  no  better  result.  Both 
now  were  thoroughly  frightened.  Were  they  to 
fail  after  all?  Fred's  hands  began  to  shake  so  he 
could  scarcely  throw  the  rope. 

"Here,"  whispered  Darling,  "let  me  try  it  to 
the  left.  In  the  dark  we  may  have  missed  the 
place  a  little." 

With  a  trembling  hand  Fred  handed  Darling  the 
rope.  Darling  took  it,  gave  a  cast,  and  then  com- 
menced slowly  to  draw  it  in.  It  readily  came  for 
a  few  feet,  and  then  stopped,  and  refused  to  come 
farther.  He  pulled  hard,  then  threw  his  whole 
weight  upon  it,  but  it  did  not  give. 

"It  holds!  it  holds!"  Darling  whispered  joyfully 
in  Fred's  ear. 

"God  be  praised!"  answered  Fred,  his  fear  all 
gone.     "Now,  go — go  quick!" 

They  had  had  a  dispute  the  night  before  as  to 


THE  ESCAPE.  215 

which  one  should  go  first,  but  the  dispute  was  per- 
emptorily ended  by  Fred,  who,  as  Darling's 
superior  officer,  ordered  him  to  go  first.  So  now, 
without  a  word,  Darling  commenced  to  climb,  and 
by  bracing  his  feet  against  the  timbers  easily 
reached  the  top. 

As  he  was  lost  to  view  in  the  darkness,  Fred 
held  his  breath  in  suspense.  Would  the  rope 
hold?  Would  he  meet  a  guard?  A  moment  more, 
and  the  rope  was  drawn  up  a  couple  of  feet,  and 
dropped  back.  It  was  the  signal  from  Darling  that 
he  was  all  right,  and  for  Fred  to  come  on.  Fred 
had  climbed  but  a  few  feet  when  he  felt  the  rope 
violently  jerked.  It  was  a  signal  from  Darling  there 
was  danger.  At  the  same  moment  he  heard  the 
footsteps  of  a  guard.  Fred  clinched  his  teeth  and 
commenced  to  climb  with  all  his  strength.  He 
would  not  retreat,  he  would  not  give  up;  liberty 
was  too  near.  The  slight  noise  that  Fred  made 
reached  the  ear  of  the  guard. 

"Ah!  what  is  that  ?"  he  muttered;  and  stopping, 
he  stooped  down  and  peered  over  the  stockade. 
The  next  moment  he  was  seized  by  Darling  and 
hurled  headlong  from  the  platform  down  the  em- 
bankment. 

"Here!"  hoarsely  whispered  Darling,  "give  me 
your  hand,  quick"  ;  and  Fred  felt  himself  drawn  up, 
and  the  next  moment  he  and  Darling  had  sprung 
down  the  embankment  and  were  fleeing  away  in  the 
darkness. 

In  the  meantime  the  guard  had  struggled  to  his 


2l6  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

feet  and  was  lustily  calling  for  help.  He  had  lost 
his  gun  in  his  fall,  and  therefore  could  not  fire. 
The  relief  guards  rushed  to  the  place  whence 
the  calls  for  help  came.  In  a  few  moments  the 
whole  camp  was  in  an  uproar.  The  soldiers 
swarmed  to  their  stations,  and  the  artillerymen 
stood  with  lanyard  in  hand,  ready  to  sweep  the 
prison  with  canister. 

But  there  seemed  to  be  no  cause  for  alarm. 
The  whole  prison  was  wrapped  in  darkness,  and 
there  was  no  unusual  noise.  The  prisoners  who 
heard  the  confusion  wondered  what  it  meant,  but 
concluded  that  Wirz  was  only  trying  to  see  how 
quickly  his  men  could  get  into  position  if  there  was 
a  night  alarm. 

As  for  the  Confederates,  it  was  some  time  before 
they  found  out  the  true  cause  of  the  alarm.  The 
guard  who  made  the  outcry  was  brought  into  the 
presence  of  Wirz,  and  his  story  told.  It  was  little 
he  knew.  He  thought  he  heard  a  noise  as  if  some 
one  was  trying  to  climb  the  stockade.  He  peered 
over  to  see  if  he  could  see  anything,  when  he  was 
suddenly  seized  by  some  unseen  person,  and  hurled 
with  prodigious  force  down  the  embankment.  As 
he  was  struggling  to  his  feet,  he  thought  he  heard 
footsteps  fleeing  away  in  the  darkness,  but  was  not 
sure. 

A  search  was  made,  and  the  rope  with  which 
Fred  and  Darling  had  made  their  escape  was  found. 
How  many  had  escaped  was  unknown. 

Early    the    next    morning     the    prisoners    were 


THE  ESCAPE.  217 

mustered,  and  it  was  found  that  full  a  hundred  had 
died  during  the  night.  But  there  were  two  who 
were  not  found  with  the  dead,  neither  did  they 
answer  to  their  names — Frank  Hetrick  and  Ed 
Merchant. 

"That  tarn  Hetrick,  who  wouldn't  give  his 
barole,  gone!"  cried  Wirz. 

"Yes,  Captain,"  replied  Wry  Neck  Smith ;  "but 
there  are  only  two  of  them.  We  will  soon  have 
them." 

"Send  out  twice  the  usual  number  of  dogs  and 
men,"  snarled  Wirz.  "Tarn  them!  They  vill 
remember  me  ven  I  get  hold  of  them";  and  Wirz 
gratified  his  petty  spite  by  ordering  that  no  rations 
be  issued  to  the  prisoners  for  the  day. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TEN  THOUSAND  DOLLARS  REWARD. 

GENERAL  WHEELER  was  preparing  to  make 
a  raid  on  the  railroads  in  Sherman's  rear,  and 
it  was  in  connection  with  this  raid  that  Major  Ken- 
yon  had  been  called  to  Atlanta.  Through  the 
influence  of  General  Hood  he  was  excused  from 
accompanying  Wheeler's  command,  and  was  given 
permission  to  return  to  Macon  and  investigate  the 
case  of  Private  Frank  Bailey. 

Major  Kenyon  hunted  up  the  officer  who  had 
charge  of  the  prisoners  from  Athens  to  Madison. 
This  officer  stated  that  the  escape  of  no  prisoner 
had  been  reported  to  him  at  Athens.  He  well 
remembered  this  Bailey  through  the  fact  that  his 
horse  had  thrown  the  major.  He  was  sure  that 
Bailey  was  with  the  prisoners  when  he  took  charge 
of  them  at  Athens,  and  also  that  he  was  with  them 
when  he  turned  them  over  at  Madison.  Whether 
the  name  of  Bailey  was  on  the  list  or  not,  he  did  not 
know,  as  he  did  not  examine  it ;  but  he  was  sure  none 
had  escaped  on  the  march  from  Athens  to  Madison. 

Major  Kenyon's  next  movement  was  to  hunt  up 
the  officer  who  had  charge  of  the  prisoners  from 
Madison  to  Macon.      This  officer  was  perfectly  sure 

218 


TEN   THOUSAND  DOLLARS  REWARD.      219 

none  of  the  prisoners  escaped  while  under  his 
charge.  He  did  not  remember  the  name  of  Bailey, 
but  every  prisoner  answered  to  his  name.  The  list 
of  the  prisoners  was  found  and  examined.  The 
name  of  Bailey  was  not  found,  but  that  of  Frank 
Hetrick  was. 

Major  Kenyon  was  as  much  in  the  dark  as  ever. 
"I  tell  you,  Captain  Armstrong,"  he  exclaimed, 
with  a  big  oath,  "there  has  been  dirty  work  some- 
where— work  for  which  some  one  will  suffer. 
I  believe  this  Bailey  and  Hetrick  are  one  and  the 
same  person." 

"Who  is  he,  anyway?"  asked  the  captain. 
"What  is  the  trouble?" 

"Why — why,"  answered  the  major,  stammering, 
"he  is  the  young  devil  who  made  his  horse  throw 
me.  But  that — that  is  not  the  reason  I  am  so 
anxious  to  get  him.  I  have  the  best  of  reasons  for 
thinking  he  is  an  officer  sailing  under  false  colors, 
as  well  as  a  notorious  spy." 

Captain  Armstrong  could  not  restrain  a  smile. 
The  story  of  Major  Kenyon's  mishap  had  become 
well  known,  and  was  the  source  of  much  amusement 
among  the  officers.  But  the  captain  restrained  his 
mirth,  and  answered  respectfully:  "Why,  Major, 
I  remember  that  young  soldier;  he  was  pointed  out 
to  me.  A  fine-looking  young  fellow,  but  of  one 
thing  I  am  certain,  he  did  not  go  by  the  name  of 
Bailey.  Let's  see,  I  think  they  told  me  his  name 
was  Hetrick — yes,  I  am  sure  of  it,  Hetrick  was  the 
name." 


2  20  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Just  as  I  thought,"  exclaimed  Kenyon;  "I  am 
on  the  right  track.  Oh,  he  is  a  slick  one,  but  I  will 
catch  him  yet." 

Major  Kenyon  now  decided  on  a  bold  move- 
ment— that  of  interviewing  Kate  Shackelford.  He 
wanted  to  be  perfectly  sure  of  his  ground,  and 
make  no  mistake.  But  he  made  a  big  mistake 
when  he  visited  Kate.  If  he  had  known  that 
young  lady,  he  would  have  kept  away  from  her. 

When  Major  Kenyon's  card  was  taken  up  to 
Kate,  she  started  and  turned  pale  as  she  read  the 
name.  She  well  knew  that  the  major's  visit  was  in 
some  way  connected  with  what  she  knew  of  Fred. 
Seeing  her  hesitate,  the  butler  said:  "Gem'an  said 
you  no  'quainted  wid  him,  but  he  had  business  very 
'portant." 

Kate  at  once  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would 
see  him.  "Tell  the  gentleman  I  shall  be  down  in 
a  moment,"  she  said. 

Major  Kenyon  was  not  quite  prepared  for  the 
queenly  girl  that  swept  into  the  room  and  said 
coldly:   "You  wished  to  see  me,  sir?" 

Her  beauty  greatly  embarrassed  him.  He  was 
an  admirer  of  handsome  women,  and  he  thought  he 
had  never  seen  a  more  beautiful  one.  The  excite- 
ment under  which  she  labored  had  heightened  her 
color  and  made  her  eyes  shine  like  two  stars.  All 
that  he  could  do  was  to  gaze  at  her.  He  was  called 
back  to  earth  by  her  cold  voice:  "Why  am  I  hon- 
ored with  your  visit,  Major  Kenyon?  I  was  told 
you  wished  to  see  me  on  important  business." 


TEN   THOUSAND  DOLLARS   REWARD.       221 

For  once  Major  Kenyon  was  abashed.  He 
found  it  very  hard  to  state  his  business.  He  colored 
and  stammered  like  a  schoolboy.  It  was  very  hard 
to  say  anything  disagreeable  to  this  cold,  stately 
beauty.      At  length  he  managed  to  say: 

"Miss  Shackelford,  it  is  only  the  love  I  bear  my 
country  and  the  great  desire  I  have  for  the  success 
of  our  cause  that  has  led  me  to  seek  this  interview. 
Pardon  me,  but  I  know  you  to  be  a  true  daughter 
of  the  South,  and  that  you  would  do  nothing  to 
hurt  our  sacred  cause — that  is,  knowingly." 

The  major  paused. 

"Go  on,"  said  Kate,  in  the  same  cold  voice. 

"A  few  days  ago  a  Yankee  prisoner  was  brought 
through  here  on  his  way  to  Andersonville.  You 
sought  an  interview  with  him.  He  gave  his  name 
as  Hetrick.  Is  that  truly  his  name,  and  is  he 
a  private  soldier  as  he  represented?  I  do  not  ask 
you  these  questions  to  pry  into  private  affairs, 
Miss  Shackelford,  but  because  it  is  my  duty  to 
do  so." 

"I  believe  I  told  Captain  Bainbridge  who  and 
what  he  was,"  replied  Kate,  icily.  "Is  that  all 
your  business  with  me,  sir?" 

"But  you  surely  know  more,"  exclaimed  the 
major,  nettled  by  her  manner.  "You  must  know 
his  true  name  is  not  Hetrick?" 

"Sir!"  Kate's  tone  caused  the  major  to  stop. 
She  had  arisen,  her  face  was  flaming,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing. Striking  a  call-bell  sharply,  she  waited  until 
the  butler  made  his  appearance. 


222  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Thomas,  show  this  man  the  door  at  once"; 
and  without  another  word  she  turned  and  swept 
from  the  room. 

"Dis  way,  sah,  dis  way,"  said  Thomas,  bowing 
and  scraping,  but  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face. 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  Major  Kenyon  was 
ingloriously  ejected,  and  the  door  shut  upon  him. 
His  blood  was  at  the  boiling-point,  but  he  could 
not  demand  satisfaction  of  a  woman.  Angry  as  he 
was,  he  could  not  help  admiring  Kate. 

"Gods!"  he  muttered,  "what  a  woman!  Beau- 
tiful as  a  houri,  but  full  of  fire  as  a  volcano.  What 
a  prize  for  a  man  to  win!  I  could  give  up  Lucille 
for  her.  How  I  should  like  to  tame  her  proud 
spirit !" 

The  major's  next  move  was  to  see  Captain  Bain- 
bridge.  The  captain,  suspecting  nothing,  readily 
gave  Major  Kenyon  all  the  information  in  his 
power,  and  ended  by  praising  Miss  Shackelford  for 
showing  so  much  kindness  to  a  private  soldier  who 
had  protected  her  from  insult. 

Major  Kenyon's  lip  curled  in  scorn.  "Captain 
Bainbridge,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  have  been  most 
egregiously  imposed  upon.  Miss  Kate  Shackelford 
pulled  the  wool  over  your  eyes  nicely." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Captain  Bainbridge,  turn- 
ing very  red. 

"I  say  you  have  been  imposed  upon.  That  sol- 
dier's name  is  not  Hetrick.  Miss  Shackelford 
simply  lied  to  you." 

"Stop!"  thundered  Bainbridge. 


TEN   THOUSAND  DOLLARS  REWARD.       223 

Major  Kenyon  looked  at  Captain  Bainbridge  in 
astonishment.      "What's  the  matter?"  he  asked. 

"Another  word  derogatory  of  Miss  Shackelford, 
and  you  will  answer  to  me  as  a  gentleman." 

Major  Kenyon  gave  a  prolonged  whistle. 
"Look  a-here,  Bainbridge,  I  don't  want  to  quarrel 
with  you.  In  fact,  I  would  save  you.  You  are  stand- 
ing on  dangerous  ground.  This  Hetrickis  really  a 
Yankee  captain  and  spy.      Miss  Shackelford's — " 

"Stop!"  again  commanded  Captain  Bainbridge, 
with  a  white,  drawn  face.  "I  will  not  hear  one 
word  derogatory  of  her." 

There  had  been  a  listener  to  the  latter  part  of 
this  conversation.  Captain  Calhoun  Pennington 
had  come  into  the  office,  and  to  his  surprise  heard 
the  two  officers  discussing  Kate  Shackelford.  So 
engaged  were  they  that  they  did  not  notice  the 
entrance  of  Captain  Pennington. 

' '  Pardon  me,  gentlemen, ' '  he  exclaimed,  blandly ; 
"but  if  I  mistake  not,  you  are  taking  in  vain  the 
name  of  a  young  lady  who  is  a  relative  of  mine. 
I  have  the  honor  of  being  a  cousin  of  Miss  Kate 
Shackelford.  I  thank  you,"  bowing  to  Captain 
Bainbridge,  "for  defending  her  good  name;  but  if 
I  find  or  hear  of  either  of  you  discussing  that  young 
lady  in  public  again,  I  shall  hold  you  to  a  strict 
account.  Here  is  my  card" ;  and  he  handed  each 
of  them  a  card,  which  read : 

Captain  Calhoun  Pennington, 

Secret  Service  Department, 

Army  Tennessee,  C.  S.  A. 


224  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA 

Here  was  something  neither  officer  was  looking 
for.  Major  Kenyon  was  the  first  to  recover  from 
his  surprise. 

"Captain  Pennington,"  he  said,  "I  have  heard 
of  you,  and  I  know  you  to  be  a  brave  and  true 
officer.  Will  you  grant  me  a  few  minutes'  private 
conversation  with  you?" 

"Willingly,"  answered  Calhoun;  "though  it 
may  be  no  more  than  fair  for  Captain  Bainbridge  to 
be  present,  for  I  must  confess  I  am  in  the  dark  as 
to  what  you  two  gentlemen  were  quarreling  about. 
It  was  enough  for  me  to  know  you  were  discussing 
the  good  name  of  a  young  lady  in  public,  something 
that  no  gentleman  should  do." 

"I  am  more  than  willing  Captain  Bainbridge 
should  be  present,"  responded  Major  Kenyon,  "for 
I  have  no  quarrel  with  him." 

The  three  officers  retired  to  a  private  room. 
There  Major  Kenyon  adroitly  told  his  story,  plac- 
ing his  desire  to  expose  Fred  solely  on  patriotic 
grounds. 

Calhoun  listened  in  amazement.  This  was  the 
first  intimation  that  he  had  received  that  Fred  was 
a  prisoner.  He  saw  it  all — how  Kate  was  trying  to 
shield  and  protect  Fred.  It  was  a  delicate  matter 
to  handle. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  at  length  said,  "that  this 
matter  comes  directly  under  my  authority  as  head 
of  the  secret  service  of  this  department.  I  will  at 
once  look  into  this  case,  and  find  out  for  a  certainty 
who   this   Hetrick   is.      But   one  thing,  gentlemen, 


TEN   THOUSAND   DOLLARS  REWARD.       225 

I  want  you  to  understand,  I  will  not  have  the  name 
of  Miss  Shackelford  dragged  into  this  matter.  She 
has  done  nothing,  unless  it  is  to  conceal  the  pris- 
oner's true  name.  There  has  been  no  attempt 
made  to  have  him  escape,  simply  a  request  that  he 
be  given  work  on  the  parole  list  at  Andersonville. 
It  is  well  known  that  hundreds  of  the  prisoners  are 
so  employed.  If  the  prisoner  is  really  Captain 
Frederic  Shackelford,  as  Major  Kenyon  believes, 
I  can  easily  find  out.  Major  Kenyon  can  be  con- 
gratulated on  his  zeal  for  the  South ;  Captain 
Bainbridge  on  defending  the  fair  name  of  a  lady. 
Major,  I  will  keep  you  posted  as  to  the  outcome." 
But  no  sooner  was  Major  Kenyon  alone  than 
a  malignant  scowl  came  over  his  handsome  features. 
"Fool,"  he  muttered,  "to  think  that  I  did  not  see 
through  his  little  game.  Captain  Pennington, 
I  don't  trust  you  any  more  than  I  do  Miss  Kate 
Shackelford.  You  think  that  you  are  all-powerful 
in  this,  but  an  order  from  General  Hood  will  con- 
vince you  I  still  have  something  to  say.  After  all, 
I  do  not  know  but  I  would  let  Captain  Shackelford 
go,  if  by  it  I  thought  I  could  win  the  smiles  of 
Miss  Kate  Shackelford.  But  there  is.  Lucille.  It 
has  been  taken  for  granted  I  would  marry  her. 
But  the  minx  has  never  said  she  would,  and  her 
letters  lately  have  been  strangely  cold.  It  is  over 
two  years  since  I  saw  her.  She  was  then  not 
much  over  sixteen.  They  say  she  is  beautiful — 
very  beautiful.  So  is  Miss  Shackelford — and  what 
a  wife  she  would  make  for  a  man  like  me!     She 


2  26  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA 

looked  like  a  tragedy  queen  when  she  told  that 
smirking  nigger  to  show  me  the  door.  Zounds! 
how  I  should  like  to  tame  her!  I  have  it.  I  will 
get  Captain  Shackelford  in  my  power,  and  then,  if 
I  choose,  I  will  make  terms  with  Miss  Kate  Shack- 
elford. If  I  fail,  there  is  Lucille;  she  will  be  none 
the  wiser.  But  the  first  thing  is  to  get  hold  of 
Captain  Shackelford,  and  I  must  see  that  Penning- 
ton doesn't  get  ahead  of  me." 

As  for  Calhoun,  he  lost  no  time  in  going  to  see 
Kate.  He  knew  if  he  would  save  Fred  he  must 
act,  and  act  at  once.      But  how? 

When  Calhoun  told  Kate  what  had  happened, 
she  made  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  matter. 

"But,  Kate,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  before? 
I  might  have  done  something  then." 

"Because,"  she  sobbed,  "he  made  me  promise 
not  to  say  a  word  to  any  one.  He  was  especially 
anxious  that  his  father  should  not  know.  Oh,  Cal- 
houn!  can't  you  save  Fred?  This  horrid  Major 
Kenyon  will  stop  at  nothing.  How  I  hate  him! 
Calhoun,  you  ought  to  have  seen  his  face  when 
I  ordered  Thomas  to  show  him  the  door.  He  is 
a  handsome  man,  but  at  that  moment  he  looked 
like  a  demon." 

"I  am  afraid,  Kate,  you  did  Fred  no  good,  but 
I  glory  in  your  courage.  " 

"But,  Calhoun,  what  can  we  do?"  persisted 
Kate. 

Calhoun  thought  long  and  hard.  At  length  he 
looked  up  with  a  brightening  face. 


TEN   THOUSAND   DOLLARS  REWARD.       227 

"Kate,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  have  it.  Fred  must 
die." 

"What!"  ejaculated  the  girl,  opening  her  eyes 
in  astonishment.  "Oh,  Calhoun,  what  do  you 
mean?" 

"I  mean  this  soldier  known  as  Hetrick  must  die 
as  far  as  the  rolls  of  the  prison  show.  Listen,  Kate. 
Between  one  hundred  and  two  hundred  soldiers  die 
at  Andersonville  every  day.  I  believe  I  can  arrange 
it  so  Fred  can  be  reported  dead,  and  he  can  take 
the  place  of  a  soldier  who  has  really  died.  Let 
Hetrick  be  reported  as  dead  and  buried  before 
Major  Kenyon  gets  there,  and  we  have  him  beaten. ' ' 

Kate  clapped  her  hands.  "Capital!  capital!" 
she  cried.      "Calhoun,  you  are  a  genius." 

"Kate,"  suddenly  asked  Calhoun,  "is  there  any- 
thing between  you  and  Captain  Bainbridge?" 

"No;  why  do  you  ask?" 

"Because  I  found  him  and  Major  Kenyon  about 
to  fight  a  duel  over  you.  It  seems  that  the  major 
spoke  of  you  in  somewhat  uncomplimentary  terms, 
and  Captain  Bainbridge  resented  it  vigorously.  But 
I  put  a  stop  to  it.  I  told  them  that  if  I  ever  heard 
of  either  of  them  discussing  your  actions  in  public, 
they  would  have  me  to  settle  with." 

"Major  Kenyon  talking  about  me?  What  did 
he  say?"  asked  Kate,  with  a  dangerous  gleam  in 
her  eye. 

"Oh,  he  accused  you  of  trying  to  shield 
a  Yankee  spy." 

"And  Captain  Bainbridge  defended  me?" 


22  8  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Ready  to  fight  for  you,  Kate.  I  am  afraid 
you  have  wrought  mischief  there." 

Kate  flushed.  "Calhoun,  if  I  have,  I  am  not  to 
blame.  Captain  Bainbridge  has  called  on  me  three 
or  four  times.  He  is  very  nice,  and  good  com- 
pany. But  men  are  such  fools.  You  can't  smile 
on  one  but  he  falls  head  over  heels  in  love  with 
you — or  pretends  to." 

"I  can  hardly  blame  them  in  your  case,  cousin 
mine,"  laughed  Calhoun.  "There!  there!"  he 
continued,  as  he  saw  a  look  of  pain  come  into  Kate's 
face.  "I  know  that  old  and  terrible  wound  is  not 
yet  healed.  Garrard's  grave  is  still  more  precious 
than  any  living  lover." 

But  Kate  said  nothing.  Was  it?  She  durst  not 
ask  herself  the  question. 

"Kate,"  continued  Calhoun,  "I  have  been 
ordered  to  East  Tennessee  to  join  Wheeler,  so 
what  I  do  for  Fred  must  be  done  at  once.  I  shall 
go  to  Andersonville  this  afternoon." 

"And  father  goes  to  the  front  to-morrow," 
sobbed  Kate.     "Oh,  how  can  I  see  him  go  back?" 

"Be  brave,  Kate,  be  brave.  Remember,  you 
are  a  soldier's  daughter." 

"I  will;  but  will  this  dreadful  war  never  end? 
I  begin  to  despair." 

"What,  you,  Kate  —  you?  I  never  thought 
that." 

"Neither  may  you,"  she  cried.  "I  am  ashamed 
of  myself.  Oh,  if  I  were  only  a  man,  so  I  could 
fight!" 


TEN   THOUSAND  DOLLARS  REWARD.      229 

"Well,  good-bye,  Kate;  I  will  see  you  when 
I  get  back  from  Andersonville.  Keep  up  a  brave 
heart. " 

That  evening  Kate  Shackelford  had  a  caller  in 
the  person  of  Captain  Bainbridge.  Remembering 
what  Calhoun  said,  she  received  him  a  little  coldly. 
But  what  girl  is  there,  only  twenty,  who  objects  to 
being  admired.  Kate  was  ill  at  ease.  She  had, 
in  a  measure,  deceived  Captain  Bainbridge,  and 
believing  in  her,  he  had  nearly  become  involved  in 
a  quarrel.      She  clearly  owed  him  an  apology. 

"Captain  Bainbridge,"  she  began,  "my  cousin 
has  told  me  how  gallantly  you  defended  me  from 
the  charge  of  Major  Kenyon.  You  do  not  know 
how  grateful  I  am;  and  yet,  Captain,  I — I  am  not 
worthy  of  your  regards.  Major  Kenyon  told  the 
truth;  I  deceived  you.  I  know  you  will  despise 
me,  but  I — I  am  not  sorry." 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  replied  Captain  Bain- 
bridge, in  an  unsteady  voice.  "You  may  trust  me; 
I  will  not  betray  your  confidence." 

Then  Kate  told  him  all  about  Fred ;  how  he  had 
procured  a  pardon  for  her  when  immured  in 
a  Northern  prison  as  a  spy,  and  how  kind  he  had 
always  been  to  her  and  all  of  his  friends  and  rela- 
tives who  were  Confederates.    She  closed  by  saying: 

"I  know  you  will  despise  me  for  my  deception, 
but  I  could  not  do  otherwise  than  I  have  done." 

"Despise  you!"  he  cried;  "Miss  Shackelford, 
instead  of  despising  you,  I  honor  you  for  what  you 
have   done.      Your  actions   show   the   goodness    of 


230  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

your  heart.  Miss  Shackelford — Kate,  may  I  not 
call  you  Kate? — do  you  not  see  that  I  love  you? 
You  are  more  to  me  than  life.  Can  you  not,  will 
you  not,  give  me  a  little  hope?" 

Kate  trembled.  She  saw  that  a  true  man  loved 
her,  a  man  to  whom  she  had  never  given  any 
encouragement.  Her  distress  was  so  evident  that 
he  cried,  "Miss  Shackelford,  forgive  me  if  I  have 
offended  you." 

"You  have  not  offended  me,"  she  replied,  in 
a  low  voice.  "Any  woman  is  honored  by  the  love 
of  a  true  man,  and  such  a  man  I  believe  you  to  be; 
but  I  am  so  sorry — sorry  for  you,  for  I  cannot  love 
you ;  sorry  for  myself,  for  I  have  no  love  to  give. 
My  heart  lies  in  a  grave  where  sleeps  the  most  gal- 
lant of  Southern  soldiers." 

"Then  you  love  no  one  else?"  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"I — love — no — one — else,"  she  responded,  hesi- 
tatingly; but  as  she  said  it,  she  grew  very  pale,  for 
all  unbidden  a  vision  of  a  boyish,  laughing  face 
arose  before  her,  and  the  face  was  that  of  Captain 
Hugh  Raymond. 

"You  are  not  well;  you  look  ill,"  said  Captain 
Bainbridge,  tenderly,  noticing  her  extreme  paleness. 
"Shall  I  not  ring?" 

"No,  no;  I  shall  be  better  in  a  moment.  Cap- 
tain, hear  a  further  confession  I  thought  never  to 
make  to  mortal  ears;  but  I  owe  it  to  you,  to  your 
kindness.  There  is  another  man  whom  I  would 
love,  but  he  is  an  enemy  to  my  country,  and  I 
would  die  before   I  would  wed  a  foe  of  the  South. 


TEN   THOUSAND   DOLLARS   REWARD.       231 

So  I  have  torn  that  love  from  my  heart.  Captain 
Bainbridge,  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  that  unworthy 
object  of  my  love.  If  I  had  not,  I  might  learn  to 
love  you.  But  as  it  is,  there  is  no  hope.  Forgive 
me" ;  and  she  turned  and  almost  fled  from  the 
room. 

As  Captain  Bainbridge  left  the  house  he  reeled 
almost  like  a  drunken  man.  He  sought  and  gained 
permission  to  join  his  regiment  at  the  front.  A  few 
days  afterwards  he  fell,  bravely  cheering  on  his  men 
in  that  desperate  charge  at  Jonesboro. 

When  Kate  gained  her  room  after  she  had  left 
Captain  Bainbridge,  she  burst  into  a  whirlwind  of 
passion.  "I  don't  love — I  won't  love  him!"  she 
cried,  stamping  her  little  foot.  "I  hate  you,  Hugh 
Raymond,  you  miserable  Yankee!"  And  with  this 
outbreak,  she  threw  herself  on  the  bed,  and  had  a 
good  cry.  The  cry  over,  she  arose  and  bathed  her 
eyes,  and  comforted  herself  with  the  thought  that 
she  hated  the  very  ground  on  which  Hugh  Ray- 
mond walked. 

Calhoun  Pennington,  after  his  interview  with 
Kate,  made  preparations  to  go  to  Andersonville  by 
the  first  train.  Captain  Pennington  was  not  only 
at  the  head  of  the  secret  service  of  the  Department 
of  the  Tennessee,  but  he  himself  was  a  daring  spy. 
The  hope  of  the  Confederates  was  to  break  the  com- 
munications of  General  Sherman  so  thoroughly  as 
to  force  him  to  retreat.  Calhoun,  disguised  as  a 
country  boy,  spent  two  weeks  in  middle  Tennessee, 
finding  out   the   strength   of  the  different  garrisons 


232  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

guarding  the  railroads,  the  best  routes  for  a  raiding 
party  to  take,  and  where  the  heaviest  and  most 
effective  blows  could  be  struck.  Wheeler  had  made 
a  very  successful  raid  on  Sherman's  rear,  striking 
the  railroad  in  several  places,  and  capturing  Dalton, 
and  then  making  his  way  into  East  Tennessee. 
Here  he  recruited  his  command,  preparatory  to 
making  a  dash  across  the  mountains  and  striking 
the  railroads  between  Nashville  and  Chattanooga. 
Calhoun  was  to  act  as  guide  to  this  raid  of  Wheeler, 
and  was  under  orders  to  join  him  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. Thus  whatever  he  did  for  Fred,  he  must  do 
at  once. 

To  his  chagrin  he  found  Major  Kenyon  on  the 
same  train  that  he  took  for  Andersonville.  Cal- 
houn saw  that  his  plan  of  having  Fred  personate 
a  dead  prisoner  could  not  now  be  carried  out. 

"Ah!"  said  the  major,  blandly,  but  with  a  cyn- 
ical smile,  as  he  saw  Calhoun,  "glad  to  see  you, 
Captain.  Going  down  to  Andersonville  to  probe 
that  Hetrick  matter,  are  you?  Well,  you  scratch 
Hetrick's  skin,  and  you  will  find  Captain  Fred 
Shackelford  beneath.  As  I  had  a  little  leisure, 
I  though  I  would  run  down  and  see  how  you  came 
out." 

Calhoun  could  hardly  resist  the  temptation  of 
striking  the  scoundrel  in  the  face,  but  controlling 
his  temper,  he  said:  "It  is  a  little  strange  that  any 
Confederate  officer  should  have  leisure  time  just 
now,  as  the  fate  of  Atlanta  is  trembling  in  the  bal- 
ance." 


TEN    THOUSAND  DOLLARS  REWARD.       233 

"What  is  Captain  Pennington  doing  so  far  in 
the  rear  at  this  critical  period?"  asked  Major  Ken- 
yon,  with  a  sneer. 

"My  duty,"  calmly  replied  Calhoun. 

"Are  you  so  sure  of  that?"  replied  the  major; 
and  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  he  drew  forth 
a  paper,  and  handing  it  to  Calhoun,  said,  "Please 
read  that. 

It  was  an  order  from  General  Hood  saying  that 
as  Captain  Calhoun  Pennington,  chief  of  the  secret 
service,  was  under  orders  to  join  General  Wheeler 
in  East  Tennessee,  the  matter  of  looking  into  the 
case  of  Private  Hetrick,  supposed  to  be  the  Yankee 
officer,  Captain  Frederic  Shackelford,  was  given  to 
Major  Kenyon,  who  would  have  entire  control  of 
the  case." 

"Why  didn't  you  show  this  to  me  before 
I  started  on  this  journey?"  fiercely  demanded  Cal- 
houn. 

"Because  I  only  received  this  order  to-day,  and 
also  for  the  better  reason  that  I  want  to  be  sure  of 
the  identification.  As  you  are  a  cousin  of  this 
precious  Captain  Shackelford,  of  course  you  will 
have  no  trouble  in  identifying  him." 

Calhoun  saw  that  he  was  trapped.  He  could 
only  mentally  curse  Major  Kenyon,  and  resolve  to 
get  even  with  him  in  time. 

"You  have  gone  to  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
Major;  but  as  you  seem  to  have  this  entire  matter 
in  your  hands,  and  you  were  not  gentleman  enough 
to   tell   me   this  before  I  started,  you   may  do  your 


234  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

own  identifying.  I  shall  take  the  first  train  back, 
and  start  at  once  for  East  Tennessee,  obeying  Gen- 
eral Hood's  command." 

Thus  saying,  Calhoun  lit  a  cigar,  unfolded  a  news- 
paper, and  calmly  commenced  reading,  paying  no 
further  notice  to  Kenyon.  When  Andersonville 
was  reached,  Calhoun  inquired  when  he  could  get 
a  train  back,  and  then  sauntered  up  to  Wirz's  head- 
quarters. Major  Kenyon  had  preceded  him,  and 
had  found  Captain  Wirz  in  a  most  towering  passion, 
and  swearing  volubly  in  German.  As  soon  as  Major 
Kenyon  could  get  his  ear,  he  stated  his  business. 

"Vat?"  exclaimed  Wirz;  "is  it  that  tarn  Het- 
rick  you  vant  once  more?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Kenyon. 

"You  vant  that  tarn  Hetrick,  do  you?"  sput- 
tered Wirz,  bobbing  up  and  down  like  a  jumping- 
jack;   "veil,  he  has  escaped." 

"Escaped?"  ejaculated  Calhoun,  in  amazement. 

"Escaped?"  yelled  Major  Kenyon,  with  an  oath. 
"When?     How?" 

The  story  of  Fred's  and  Darling's  escape  was 
told,  and  Wirz  added  that  a  company  of  cavalry 
with  a  pack  of  bloodhounds  was  already  in  pursuit. 

"Ve  vill  catch  them,  ve  vill  catch  them,"  said 
Wirz,  still  bobbing  up  and  down;  "ve  always  do; 
and  ven  I  have  them — " 

"What  will  you  do?"  broke  in  Calhoun. 

"I  stamp  them,  I  starve  them,  I  tie  them  up  by 
the  thumbs,  I  learn  them  to  run  avay"  ;  and  Wirz's 
face  took  on  a  most  fiendish  expression. 


TEN    THOUSAND  DOLLARS  REWARD.      235 

"I  will  do  better  than  that,"  exclaimed  Major 
Kenyon,  with  a  meaning  look  at  Calhoun;  "I  will 
hang  them  ;  and,  Captain  Wirz,  it  is  as  much  as  your 
position  is  worth  if  these  men  be  not  captured." 

Wirz  was  thoroughly  frightened,  but  before  he 
could  answer,  a  cavalryman  dashed  up,  his  horse 
covered  with  foam,  and  said:  Captain  Wirz,  Lieu- 
tenant Stevens,  in  command  of  the  party  sent  in 
pursuit  of  the  escaped  prisoners,  bade  me  tell  you 
that  in  some  manner  the  prisoners  had  procured 
arms,  and  have  killed  or  disabled  every  dog  in  the 
pack.  They  are  now  in  a  swamp,  where  it  is 
impossible  to  follow  them  with  horses.  He  wants 
another  pack  of  dogs,  and  also  enough  men  to 
patrol  the  shores  of  the  swamp  thoroughly." 

The  fury  of  Wirz  when  he  heard  the  report  knew 
no  bounds.  He  raved  like  a  madman,  and  swore 
that  when  captured  the  prisoners  would  be  subjected 
to  all  manner  of  torture. 

"Major,"  said  Calhoun,  "as  it  is  nearly  train 
time,  I  will  bid  you  good  day.  I  wish  you  joy  in 
catching  your  birds";  and  with  a  mocking  smile, 
he  turned  away. 

On  his  return  to  Macon,  he  hastily  sought  Kate, 
and  told  her  what  had  happened.  He  advised  her 
to  write  at  once  to  General  Shackelford  and  give 
him  the  full  particulars. 

' '  Oh !  what  will  become  of  Fred  now ?' '  exclaimed 
Kate,  wringing  her  hands. 

"I  don't  know,  but  I  do  know  one  thing,  he  will 
never  be  taken  alive.      He  will  either  escape  or  die 


236  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

in  the  attempt.  I  wonder  how  they  managed  to 
kill  the  dogs." 

"They?     Is  there  some  one  with  him?" 

"Yes,  and  evidently  one  as  brave  and  daring  as 
himself.  Let  us  hope  for  the  best,  Kate.  But  I 
must  say  good-bye,  and  away  to  East  Tennessee." 

It  can  be  added  that  Captain  Pennington  guided 
General  Wheeler  across  the  mountains  into  middle 
Tennessee,  and  so  well  posted  was  Calhoun  on 
where  to  strike  that  Wheeler  inflicted  terrible  dam- 
age on  the  railroads,  and  escaped  unharmed.  It 
was  one  of  the  most  successful  raids  that  Wheeler 
ever  made,  and  he  gave  Captain  Pennington  full 
credit  for  the  prominent  part  he  acted. 

Yet  it  was  this  very  raid  that  was  one  of  the 
chief  causes  of  the  downfall  of  the  Confederacy. 
It  showed  General  Sherman  how  insecure  his  com- 
munications were,  and  fully  decided  him  to  make 
that  remarkable  march  "from  Atlanta  to  the  sea." 

No  sooner  had  Calhoun  left  Major  Kenyon  with 
that  mocking  smile  than  the  major  burst  into  almost 
as  great  a  rage  as  Captain  Wirz. 

"Captain  Wirz,"  he  exclaimed,  "these  men 
must  be  caught  if  it  takes  half  the  State  of  Georgia. 
Send  every  soldier  you  can  possibly  spare  in  pursuit. 
I  will  telegraph  to  Governor  Brown,  and  have  the 
State  guards  to  the  east  and  south  on  the  watch. 
Send  for  more  dogs.      Leave  no  stone  unturned." 

Captain  Wirz  mustered  every  soldier  he  could 
possibly  spare  to  send  to  Lieutenant  Stevens  to  aid 
him  in  his  search. 


TEN   THOUSAND  DOLLARS  REWARD.       237 

Before  they  started,  Major  Kenyon  made  them 
a  short  speech.  "Soldiers,"  he  said,  "it  is  very 
important  that  these  escaped  prisoners  be  captured. 
No  doubt  the  Confederate  government  will  richly 
reward  those  who  capture  them.  But  to  stimulate 
you,  on  my  own  account  I  will  offer  a  reward  of  ten 
thousand  dollars  to  the  one  or  ones  who  will  bring 
in  the  fugitives,  dead  or  alive." 

With  a  wild  cheer,  and  with  cries  of  "We  will 
get  them!"  the  soldiers  dashed  away.  The  tramp- 
ling of  their  horses'  feet  and  the  deep  baying  of  the 
hounds  were  soon  lost  in  the  distance.  Major 
Kenyon  took  the  next  train  back  to  Macon,  but  it 
was  only  to  perfect  his  plans  for  the  capture  of  the 
fugitives. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  FIGHT  WITH  THE  BLOODHOUNDS. 

AS  Fred  and  Darling  fled  through  the  darkness, 
the  cries  of  the  guard  for  help  followed  them. 
After  running  a  short  distance,  they  stopped  and 
listened.  Their  breath  came  in  quick  gasps,  and 
they  panted  like  men  under  some  great  exertion. 
The  tumult  and  uproar  of  the  camp  were  borne  to 
their  ears,  and  they  could  hear  the  excited  voices 
of  the  officers  as  they  shouted  to  their  comrades, 
and  then  came  the  sound  of  the  trampling  of  many 
feet. 

"Quick,  this  way!"  whispered  Fred;  "but  don't 
hurry;  too  much  haste  may  be  our  undoing."  So 
they  walked  leisurely  in  the  direction  Fred  indi- 
cated. They  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when 
they  heard  voices  and  the  hurried  trampling  of  sol- 
diers in  their  front. 

"Face  about,"  whispered  Fred;  "let's  pretend 
to  be  making  for  the  stockade.  It's  the  only  way 
to  avoid  suspicion." 

They  did  so,  and  in  a  moment  a  company  of 
Confederate  infantry  rushed  past  them.  As  they 
commingled,  Fred  and  Darling  pretended  to  be  in 
a  great  hurry  to  get  to  the  stockade,  but  soon  man- 

238 


A   FIGHT    WITH   THE   BLOODHOUNDS.     239 

aged  to  be  left  behind.  In  the  darkness  their  uni- 
forms were  not  noticed,  neither  was  the  fact  that 
they  had  no  guns.  Well  did  the  darkness  serve 
them.  The  Confederates  were  in  too  great  a  hurry 
to  get  to  the  stockade  to  help  quell  the  supposed 
outbreak  to  notice  stragglers.  As  soon  as  they 
were  left  alone,  Fred  said:  "Now  is  our  time;'  the 
coast  must  be  clear. "  So  they  turned  their  faces 
once  more  from  the  stockade. 

So  well  had  Fred  studied  the  ground  while  out 
after  wood  that  he  had  no  trouble  in  taking  the 
direction  that  he  wished. 

In  the  meantime  the  uproar  in  the  Confederate 
camp  increased.  The  beating  of  the  drums,  the 
hoarse  commands  of  the  officers,  the  hurried  tramp 
of  the  soldiers  as  they  rushed  to  the  stockade — all 
these  sounds  were  borne  to  their  ears. 

"Just  hear  them!"  chuckled  Darling;  "we  have 
succeeded  in  giving  them  a  good  scare,  if  nothing 
more." 

"Sure,"  answered  Fred;  "but  it  will  not  be  long 
before  they  will  discover  the  rope,  and  the  guard 
will  tell  the  rest.  In  the  morning  the  bloodhounds 
will  be  on  our  track.  Remember  our  compact, 
Dick,  never  to  be  taken  alive." 

"Not  much  danger  of  my  forgetting  that,  Cap- 
tain; with  us  it  is  liberty  or  death." 

The  night  was  so  dark  that,  do  the  best  they 
could,  they  could  only  make  slow  progress.  They 
found  out  that  hurrying  only  wearied  them,  and 
they  ran  risk  of  severe  injury  by  falling  over  logs  or 


240  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

running  against  trees.  The  break  of  day  found 
them  not  over  three  miles  from  the  stockade.  As 
soon  as  it  was  light  enough  to  see,  Fred  noticed 
that  the  creek  which  ran  through  the  stockade 
flowed  a  little  to  their  right. 

"Let  us  take  to  the  water,"  said  Fred;  "it  will 
throw  the  dogs  off  the  scent,  for  at  least  a  while." 

They  waded  down  the  creek  for  some  distance, 
at  length  coming  to  a  place  where  the  branches  of 
a  tree  overhung  the  water. 

"Here  is  the  place  to  leave  the  creek,"  said 
Fred,  as  he  swung  himself  up  into  the  tree. 

Darling  followed,  and  by  passing  from  tree  to 
tree,  they  were  enabled  to  go  some  fifty  yards 
before  they  were  obliged  to  come  to  the  ground. 

"This  ought  to  throw  the  dogs  off  of  the  scent 
for  some  time,"  remarked  Fred,  "and  every  minute 
gained  is  precious." 

"Aye,"  answered  Darling;  "but  the  brutes  will 
be  on  our  trail  soon  enough  to  suit  us,  of  that  we 
can  rest  assured." 

"Then,"  said  Fred,  "let  us  hurry.  I  want  to 
place  as  many  miles  between  us  and  Andersonville 
by  night  as  possible." 

They  had  the  advantage  of  other  prisoners  who 
had  escaped  in  that  they  were  in  full  health  and 
their  strength  had  not  been  reduced  by  starvation. 
Darling's  wound  had  not  yet  entirely  healed;  he 
had  anticipated  little  trouble  from  it,  but  he  found 
that  climbing  the  stockade  had  strained  it,  and  it 
began  to  pain  him  severely. 


A   FIGHT    WITH   THE   BLOODHOUNDS.     24 1 

They  were  also  fortunate  in  having  an  ax  for 
a  weapon,  which  proved  of  the  greatest  service  to 
them.  The  first  thing  they  did  after  leaving  the 
creek  was  to  stop  and  fit  the  short  handle  which 
Darling  had  carried  into  the  ax.  They  then  cut 
a  stout  club,  some  two  feet  long,  with  which  Fred 
armed  himself.  Being  thus  armed,  they  set  out  at 
a  rapid  rate,  munching  the  corn  bread  they  had 
with  them  as  they  traveled. 

They  had  been  on  the  way  about  two  hours, 
and  must  have  covered  at  least  eight  miles,  when 
Fred  suddenly  halted  and  exclaimed,  "Hark!" 

The  baying  of  dogs  sounded  faintly  in  the  far 
distance.  The  two  fugitives  looked  into  each 
other's  faces,  and  for  a  moment  did  not  speak. 
Too  well  they  knew  the  meaning  of  that  sound. 
In  speaking  of  it  afterwards,  Fred  said  that  the  dis- 
tant baying  of  those  bloodhounds  was  to  him  the 
most  terrifying  sound  he  ever  heard ;  that  it  sent 
a  sensation  of  fear  through  him  that  he  never 
experienced  amid  the  fire  and  smoke  of  the  fiercest 
battle. 

Darling  spoke  first.  "The  brutes  are  on  our 
tracks,"  he  exclaimed  through  his  set  teeth;  "it 
will  now  be  impossible  for  us  to  throw  them  off." 

"It  will  not  only  be  the  dogs,  but  the  soldiers 
with  them,  that  we  shall  have  to  deal  with.  Once 
in  the  range  of  their  guns,  it  will  be  all  over  with 
us.  We  must  find  a  better  place  than  this  to  fight. 
Come." 

They  both  darted  away  like  frightened  deer,  yet 


242  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

in  their  hearts  they  knew  that  sooner  or  later  the 
dogs  would  be  on  them.  They  had  run  but  a  short 
distance  when  Fred  noticed  a  swamp  to  their  right. 
"The  swamp!  the  swamp!"  he  cried;  "the  dogs 
may  follow  us,  but  the  men  on  horseback  cannot. 
We  shall  have  only  the  dogs  to  fight." 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  they  plunged 
into  the  swamp,  thinking  not  of  what  was  before 
them.  They  had  taken  but  a  few  steps  before  they 
sank  into  the  black  and  oozy  mud  up  to  their 
waists.  Struggling  out,  they  saw  that  they  would 
have  to  be  more  careful  of  their  footsteps.  Black, 
putrid  mud  was  everywhere,  holding  in  its  foul 
embrace  pools  of  slimy,  filthy  water. 

On  every  side  the  gnarled  roots  of  trees  reared 
their  fantastic  forms  above  the  mud  and  water. 
Many  of  these  roots  looked  like  skeletons,  with 
their  long,  bony  arms  outstretched,  from  which 
moss  hung  like  shreds  of  flesh.  Others  took  the 
form  of  hobgoblins  and  demons  that  seemed  to  be 
forever  reaching  for  their  victims. 

In  many  places  it  was  only  by  jumping  from  one 
of  these  roots  to  another  that  progress  could  be 
made.  The  somber  Spanish  moss  hung  trailing 
down  from  the  branches  of  the  trees,  and  at  times 
would  enfold  them  like  a  wet  and  moldy  shroud. 

Venomous  reptiles,  startled  from  their  repose, 
would  rear  their  horrid  flattened  heads,  and  hiss- 
ing would  coil  for  the  deadly  spring.  Once  Fred 
sprang  on  what  he  thought  was  a  log,  but  it  sank 
beneath  him,  and  commenced  to  move  away.      He 


A    FIGHT    WITH   THE   BLOODHOUNDS.     243 

gave  .a  startled  cry,  and  Darling,  reaching  forth, 
caught  him  by  the  hand,  and  drew  him  onto  a 
hummock  on  which  he  stood.  On  glancing  back, 
Fred  saw  the  wicked  eyes  of  a  huge  alligator  look- 
ing into  his  own.      Shuddering,  he  turned  away. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  small  island — an  oasis 
in  this  foul-smelling  swamp  of  putrid  mud  and  slimy 
water,  of  poisonous  reptiles  and  loathsome  alli- 
gators. They  stopped  and  listened.  The  baying 
of  the  bloodhounds  was  not  only  heard,  but  sounded 
much  nearer.  The  dogs  had  followed  them  into 
the  swamp. 

"We  must  stop  here,"  gasped  Darling;  "we 
have  not  succeeded  in  throwing  the  dogs,  and  we 
must  fight  them.  I  am  completely  exhausted,  to 
say  nothing  of  being  unnerved  by  the  horrors 
through  which  we  have  passed." 

"It  was  horrible,"  answered  Fred;  "and  we 
must  get  our  breath  before  the  dogs  are  on  us. 
I  am  thankful  we  have  only  the  dogs  to  deal  with. 
Let  us  look  for  a  suitable  place  in  which  to  meet 
them,  as  in  battle  a  good  position  may  mean  every- 
thing." 

They  soon  found  a  place  that  suited  them,  a 
large  tree,  two  of  whose  roots  came  up  from  the 
ground,  forming  a  defense  on  either  side. 

"Just  the  place!"  cried  Fred,  joyfully. 

Between  the  roots  Fred  and  Darling  took  their 
stand.  The  dogs  would  have  to  attack  them  from 
the  front.  Darling,  being  the  larger  and  stronger 
of  the  two,  kept  the  ax.      The  club  which  Fred  had 


244  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

was  left  heavy  at  one  end,  the  other  end  being 
hewn  down  small  enough  to  be  handily  grasped. 
It  made  a  weapon  that  in  the  hands  of  a  strong 
man  could  be  used  with  fearful  effect.  Fred  took 
off  his  coat  and  wound  it  tightly  around  his  left 
hand  and  forearm,  and  bade  Darling  do  the  same. 

"If  they  have  to  chew  anything,"  exclaimed 
Fred,  "it  is  much  better  to  have  them  chew  our 
coats  than  our  hands  or  arms." 

Nearer  and  nearer  sounded  the  baying  of  the 
hounds.  Soon  their  sharp,  angry  cries  showed 
that  they  had  sighted  their  prey. 

"There  they  come!"   exclaimed  Fred. 

The  dogs  emerged  from  the  swamp,  trailing  after 
them  the  filthy  slime  with  which  they  were  covered. 
Their  red  tongues  were  lolling  out,  and  from  their 
open  mouths  there  dripped  flecks  of  foam  streaked 
with  blood. 

On  they  came,  a  dozen  of  them — huge,  savage 
brutes,  trained  to  tear  and  to  kill.  No  wonder  that 
for  a  moment  a  tremor,  a  thrill  of  fear,  ran  through 
the  nerves  of  both  Fred  and  Darling;  then  their 
muscles  stiffened,  they  gripped  their  weapons  with 
a  grasp  of  steel,  and  awaited  the  onset. 

Swift  as  the  swoop  of  a  hawk  came  the  attack. 
The  two  leading  brutes  sprang  at  the  throats  of 
their  victims.  The  one  that  attacked  Darling  fell 
with  his  skull  cleft  in  twain.  At  the  same  time, 
Fred's  club  fell  with  tremendous  force  on  the  head 
of  the  one  which  attacked  him,  crushing  it  like  an 
eggshell. 


SWIFT    AS    THE    SWOOP    OF    A    HAWK    CAME    THE    ATTACK. 


A   FIGHT    WITH   THE  BLOODHOUNDS.     245 

Neither  Fred  nor  Darling  could  ever  exactly  tell 
what  happened  after  that.  The  whole  pack  was  at 
them,  trying  to  reach  and  tear  them  down.  One 
caught  Fred  by  the  hand  around  which  he  had 
wound  his  coat,  and  nearly  dragged  him  from  his 
place. 

The  battle  was  short  and  fierce.  In  three 
minutes  it  was  all  over.  Half  of  the  dogs  lay  dead. 
Three  were  trying  to  drag  themselves  away,  dis- 
emboweled. The  others  were  limping  away,  badly 
hurt,  howling  with  pain. 

Fred  and  Darling  turned  and  looked  at  each 
other  inquiringly.  The  question  which  trembled 
on  the  lips  of  each,  but  which  each  feared  to  ask, 
was,  "Are  you  hurt?" 

Their  clothes  were  hanging  in  tatters  around 
them,  they  were  bleeding  from  a  few  slight  wounds, 
but  the  precautions  they  had  taken  of  protecting 
their  left  hands  and  arms  had  saved  them  from 
serious  injury.  Devoutly  did  they  thank  God  for 
their  escape,  and  they  grasped  each  other  by  the 
hand  with  full  hearts. 

Their  first  work  was  to  wash  away  as  much  as 
possible  the  stains  and  marks  of  the  conflict.  Then 
came  the  question  what  to  do  next. 

"One  thing  is  sure,"  said  Fred,  "we  cannot 
stay  here ;  we  should  starve.  Then  they  will  be  on 
us  as  soon  as  they  find  out  we  have  disposed  of  the 
dogs.  By  to-morrow  the  woods  around  this  swamp 
will  be  swarming  with  soldiers.  We  must  make 
our  way   out  of  it,  and  that  as  soon  as  possible. 


246  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

What  troubles  me  is  that  we  do  not  know  how 
large  the  swamp  is.  We  cannot  go  out  the  way  we 
came  in ;  we  should  run  right  into  the  arms  of  our 
pursuers." 

Darling  groaned.  "God,  Captain,  how  I  dread 
the  swamp !     It  is  worse  than  fighting. 

"Cheer  up,  Dick,  old  boy;  fortune  has  favored 
us  so  far;  it  may  continue  to  do  so." 

"I  know,  Captain;  but  now  the  excitement  of 
the  fight  is  over,  I  feel  as  if  we  may  lay  our  bones 
in  this  dreadful  swamp." 

"Dick,  what  in  the  world  is  the  matter  with 
you?     Come  on,  or  your  fears  will  prove  true." 

Crossing  the  little  island,  they  once  more  entered 
the  swamp,  but  this  time  with  more  cautious  foot- 
steps. Now  that  they  were  not  chased  by  the 
dogs,  the  full  terrors  of  the  swamp  were  fully  real- 
ized. For  two  hours  they  struggled  forward.  In 
some  places  they  had  to  make  their  way  by  passing 
from  the  branches  of  one  tree  to  another.  At  last 
even  the  lion-hearted  Darling  began  to  despair. 

"My  God!"  he  exclaimed,  "are  we  to  perish 
here  in  this  foul  swamp?" 

"Better  rot  here  than  in  Andersonville, "  replied 
Fred. 

"I  would  not  rot  in  either  place;  it's  a  dog's 
death.  I  would  die — die  fighting.  Why  didn't 
we  stay  and  meet  the  soldiers,  and  die  like  men?" 

"Come,  come,  Dick,  this  is  not  like  you;  let  us 
make  one  more  effort." 

Again  they  pressed  forward,  but  their  progress 


A  FIGHT    WITH   THE  BLOODHOUNDS.     247 

was  very  slow.  Darling's  wounded  arm  began  to 
look  inflamed,  and  pained  him  severely.  At  length, 
after  passing  over  a  more  difficult  place  than  usual, 
Darling  sat  down,  completely  exhausted.  For 
once  the  brave  fellow's  courage  failed.  The  horrors 
of  their  situation  had  completely  unnerved  him. 
He  could  fight  men  or  beasts,  but  the  thought  of 
dying  and  rotting  in  this  foul  swamp  was  enough 
to  strike  terror  into  the  heart  of  the  bravest. 

"It's  no  use,  Captain,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  de- 
spairing voice;  "it's  no  use  trying  any  more.  We 
have  taken  our  last  scout  together.  Look  there!" 
and  he  pointed  shuddering  to  a  spot  a  few  feet  from 
them  where  a  large  moccasin  lay  coiled  up,  his 
beady  eyes  fixed  on  them,  emitting  a  baneful  light. 
For  answer  Fred  hurled  his  club  at  the  moccasin, 
hitting  it  fairly  on  the  head.  For  a  moment  it 
writhed  and  squirmed,  and  then  rolled  off  the  root 
on  which  it  was  lying,  and  disappeared  in  the  slimy 
water. 

"Cheer  up,  Dick,"  Fred  answered,  encourag- 
ingly; "you  see  that  moccasin  is  disposed  of,  and 
if  I  mistake  not,  through  that  opening  there  I  see 
the  tops  of  pine-trees  waving.  If  so,  we  are  nearly 
out  of  the  swamp." 

Thus  encouraged,  Darling  struggled  to  his  feet, 
and  they  were  soon  rewarded  by  the  sight  of  solid 
ground  and  a  waving  pine  forest.  To  them  it  was 
like  a  sight  of  paradise. 

"See!  see!"  cried  Fred.  " Dick,  we  are  saved — 
saved."      A    few    moments    afterwards    their    feet 


248  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

were  pressing  the  solid  earth;  but  their  rejoicing 
was  short,  for  the  swamp  stretched  away  on  either 
side  of  them. 

"Captain,"  said  Darling,  "we  have  only  reached 
another  island,  but  we  can  at  least  die  on  solid  land. 
Never  will  I  try  that  awful  swamp  again.  I  can 
die  without  a  murmur  under  these  whispering  pines. " 

"Dick,  it  may  not  be  an  island;  we  can  go  until 
we  find  out." 

With  a  sigh  Darling  took  up  the  line  of  march ; 
but  as  they  advanced  the  swamp  receded,  and  they 
at  last  realized  that  they  were  on  a  point  of  land 
which  extended  far  into  the  swamp. 

"Dick,"  cried  Fred,  joyfully,  "the  Lord  is  with 
us!  If  we  had  missed  this  point,  we  surely  must 
have  perished  in  the  swamp.  As  it  is,  we  are 
saved — saved !" 

Darling  turned  to  Fred  with  glistening  eyes. 
"Captain,"  he  said,  brokenly,  "forgive  me.  I 
played  the  craven.  But  for  you  we  must  have 
perished  in  the  swamp.  I  am  ashamed  of  myself. 
I  can  never  look  you  in  the  face  again." 

"None  of  that,  Dick;  you  don't  know  how  near 
I  was  to  giving  up  myself.  Never  speak  that  way 
of  yourself  again.  But  I  am  awful  hungry;  how 
are  you?" 

"Hungry,  too.  But  what  little  corn  bread  I  have 
is  soaked  through  with  the  foul  swamp  water." 

"Bad  as  it  is,  we  must  try  to  eat  enough  to 
keep  up  our  strength.  We  must  not  be  found  in 
this  vicinity  by  morning." 


A  FIGHT    WITH   THE  BLOODHOUNDS.     249 

They  found  it  hard  work  to  eat  the  bread,  but 
managed  to  force  down  a  few  mouthfuls.  Then 
taking  a  long  draught  from  a  bubbling  spring,  they 
started,  going  south,  hoping  in  this  manner  to  avoid 
meeting  any  of  their  pursuers  who  might  be  coming 
around  the  swamp.  The  woods  were  open,  and  the 
night  being  clear,  they  made  rapid  progress. 
Cheered  by  the  hope  of  escape,  they  did  not  feel 
fatigue.  After  traveling  about  ten  miles  south, 
they  turned  east,  their  object  being  to  reach  the 
Flint  River. 

Toward  morning  they  came  to  a  country  which 
was  sparsely  settled,  and  they  were  compelled  to 
move  with  more  caution.  They  also  began  to  feel 
the  gnawings  of  hunger.  It  soon  became  evident 
to  them  they  would  have  to  procure  food,  or  their 
strength  would  fail.  As  they  were  skirting  around 
a  small  plantation,  they  heard  the  squealing  of  hogs. 

"Hist!"  said  Darling;  "there  is  food.  Stay 
here  until  I  investigate." 

Taking  his  ax  in  his  hand,  he  cautiously  crept  in 
the  direction  from  which  the  sound  seemed  to  come. 
He  soon  came  to  where  a  number  of  hogs  were 
nesting.  A  well-directed  blow  on  the  head  killed 
a  shoat  weighing  about  seventy-five  pounds.  Dar- 
ling brought  back  his  prize  in  triumph. 

"Here,"  he  exclaimed,  "is  food;  "but,"  he 
continued,  ruefully,  "we  have  no  fire,  and  hungry 
as  I  am  I  cannot  yet  eat  raw  pork." 

Neither  of  them  had  matches,  and  the  outlook 
for  a  feast  was  indeed  dubious. 


250  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

"We  will  take  the  pig  along,"  said  Fred;  "we 
have  been  very  fortunate  so  far,  and  our  good  for- 
tune may  continue.  Who  knows  but  that  we  may 
come  across  some  fire." 

"Captain,  you  would  put  courage  in  a  wooden 
man,"  answered  Darling,  as  he  picked  up  the  pig 
and  threw  it  over  his  shoulder.  "I  already  imag- 
ine myself  eating  broiled  pork." 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  on  their  way,  and 
were  making  a  detour  around  some  negro  cabins, 
when  Fred  stopped  and  said:  "I  can  almost  swear 
I  caught  a  faint  gleam  of  fire  down  there  near  those 
negro  cabins.  You  stay  here,  Dick,  and  let  me 
investigate." 

He  did  so,  and  to  his  great  delight  found  the 
remains  of  a  fire  near  a  small  stream  of  water.  It 
had  evidently  been  used  for  the  purpose  of  heating 
water  to  wash  with,  as  a  large  iron  kettle  filled  with 
water  was  yet  hanging  over  the  fire.  Fred  had 
found  his  fire,  but  how  to  carry  any  of  it  away  was 
what  puzzled  him.  He  looked  around  for  some 
kind  of  a  utensil  in  which  he  could  carry  some  coals, 
but  could  discover  none.  It  was  getting  so  near 
day  he  durst  not  approach  any  of  the  cabins  for 
fear  of  being  discovered. 

After  thinking  a  moment,  Fred  took  off  his 
coat,  and  tying  up  one  end  of  a  sleeve,  filled  it 
about  half  full  of  ashes.  He  then  took  some  live 
coals  and  forced  them  down  in  the  center  of  the 
ashes,  taking  great  care  that  none  of  the  coals 
touched  the  cloth  of  the  sleeve.      He  then  sprinkled 


A   FIGHT    WITH   THE   BLOODHOUNDS.     251 

more  ashes  on  top  of  the  coals,  completely  cover- 
ing them.  Coming  back,  he  said,  "Well,  I  have 
the  fire." 

"Where?"  asked  Darling,  looking  first  at  Fred 
and  then  at  the  coat. 

"Here  in  my  coat-sleeve,"  was  the  laughing 
reply. 

"Fire  in  your  coat-sleeve!  Surely,  Captain, 
you  must  be  joking." 

"No,  Dick;  it  is  all  right,"  and  then  Fred  ex- 
plained how  he  had  managed  it. 

Darling  looked  at  him  with  a  queer  expression 
on  his  face,  and  then  said:  "Captain,  I  take  off  my 
hat  to  you.  I  have  lived  on  the  plains,  and  I  have 
seen  considerable  since  I  have  been  in  the  army, 
but  I  never  heard  of  fire  being  carried  in  a  coat- 
sleeve  before." 

Day  was  now  breaking,  and  they  began  to  look 
for  a  thick  portion  of  the  woods  in  which  to  conceal 
themselves.  After  traveling  about  a  mile,  they 
found  a  place  which  seemed  made  for  their  purpose. 
It  was  in  a  hollow,  and  the  underbrush  grew  so 
thick  as  to  completely  screen  from  observation  any- 
thing that  might  be  hidden  within  it. 

"Just  the  place,  Dick,"  observed  Fred,  looking 
around  with  a  satisfied  air.  "If  we  are  not  tracked 
by  dogs,  we  may  stay  here  a  month." 

Their  first  work  was  to  get  something  to  eat,  for 
they  had  become  ravenous.  With  the  ax  Fred  dug 
a  hole  in  the  ground,  making  it  about  a  foot  deep 
and  about  the  same  size  square.      He  then  examined 


252  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

his  fire,  and  found  the  coals  still  alive.  These  he 
placed  in  the  bottom  of  the  hole,  and  placed  on 
them  a  few  dry  sticks.  The  sticks  burned  without 
any  perceptible  smoke;  more  sticks  were  added  from 
time  to  time,  until  the  whole  bottom  of  the  hole 
was  a  glowing  mass  of  coals. 

By  making  good  use  of  his  pocketknife,  by  the 
time  Fred  had  the  fire  ready  Darling  had  the  pig 
skinned  and  the  meat  cut  in  slices.  These  slices 
were  placed  on  the  coals  and  nicely  broiled. 

"If  we  only  had  some  salt,"  remarked  Fred  as 
he  munched  his  meat,  "this  would  be  a  feast  fit 
for  a  king." 

"Salt  or  no  salt,  it  suits  me,"  said  Darling. 
"I  find  it  mighty  filling,  and  one  of  the  sweetest 
morsels  I  ever  ate." 

After  they  had  finished  their  repast,  they  broiled 
the  rest  of  the  meat  for  future  use,  but  while  doing 
so  they  could  hardly  keep  their  eyes  open,  so  heavy 
were  they  for  lack  of  sleep. 

"Dare,  dare  we  go  to  sleep?"  mumbled  Darling, 
as  he  nearly  fell  over,  and  brought  himself  up  with 
a  start. 

"If  it  were  not  for  the  dogs,  I  would  say  yes, 
but  now  it's  risky,  awful  risky ;  but  Lord!  I  don't 
know  how  I  can  keep  awake,"  and  Fred  yawned 
wearily. 

Just  then  the  rumble  of  thunder  caught  his  ear. 
The  night  had  been  clear,  but  now  that  morning 
had  come  the  sky  became  overcast,  the  wind  com- 
menced to  sigh  and  moan  through  the  trees,  and 


A   FIGHT    WITH   THE  BLOODHOUNDS.     253 

the  rumble  of  thunder  became  more  frequent  and 
sounded  nearer. 

"Dick!"  cried  Fred,  "we  are  saved  once  more. 
A  hard  rain  will  wash  away  all  scent  from  our  tracks, 
and  make  it  impossible  for  the  dogs  to  follow  us. 
If  it  rain,  we  can  sleep  without  fear." 

Hastily  going  to  work,  they  built  a  shelter  out 
of  pine-boughs  and  pieces  of  bark  against  the  side 
of  a  large  log.  They  crawled  into  their  "nest,"  as 
they  called  it,  and  notwithstanding  the  wind  was 
howling  through  the  trees,  and  torrents  of  rain  were 
beating  down  on  their  slight  shelter,  in  less  than  a 
minute  they  were  sound  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  MEETING  WITH  SMITH. 

MAJOR  KENYON'S  offer  of  ten  thousand 
dollars  reward  for  Fred,  dead  or  alive, 
spurred  to  activity  every  soldier  that  went  in  pur- 
suit of  the  fugitives.  The  fresh  pack  of  dogs 
steadily  followed  the  trail  until  they  came  to  the 
place  in  the  swamp  where  the  fight  with  the  other 
dogs  had  taken  place.  Beyond  that  the  dogs  abso- 
lutely refused  to  go,  and  turned  back,  cringing  with 
fear.  Neither  coaxing  nor  blows  could  induce  them 
to  advance  a  foot. 

"It's  no  use,"  said  the  owner  of  the  dogs. 
"Satan  couldn't  induce  them  dogs  to  enter  the 
swamp  agin,  neither  is  it  of  eny  use.  If  the  Yanks 
is  in  the  swamp  yet,  they  will  die  thar  if  they  stay. 
If  they  git  out,  we  can  strike  their  trail  whar  they 
come  out.  The  only  way  is  to  thoroughly  patrol 
the  shores  of  the  swamp." 

This  advice  was  acted  upon,  but  it  was  nearly 
morning  before  the  opposite  side  of  the  swamp 
where  Fred  and  Darling  had  come  out  was  reached. 
Here  the  dogs  readily  took  up  the  trail. 

"The  varmints  got  out  after  all,  and  much  sooner 
than  I  expected,"  growled   the  owner  of   the  dogs; 

254 


A   MEETING    WITH  SMITH.  255 

"but  we  air  sure  of  overhauling  them  now — that  is, 
if  it  don't  rain,"  he  added,  as  the  rumble  of  distant 
thunder  was  heard. 

But  the  rain  did  come,  and  as  the  storm  was 
a  severe  one  the  dogs  were  soon  at  fault.  The  sol- 
diers cursed  and  swore,  but  it  was  of  no  avail,  every 
vestige  of  the  trail  was  washed  away. 

"The  dogs  air  of  no  more  account,"  exclaimed 
their  driver,  with  a  big  oath.  "The  devil  is  pro- 
tecting them  Yanks;  he  knows  his  own." 

A  consultation  was  held,  and  as  the  trail  when 
lost  led  south,  Lieutenant  Stevens  resolved  to  scour 
the  country  in  that  direction.  Thus  precious  time 
was  gained  by  Fred  and  Darling.  But  when 
a  report  of  what  was  being  done  was  telegraphed  to 
Major  Kenyon  at  Macon,  he  was  not  at  all  pleased. 
He  had  a  theory  of  his  own,  and  he  proceeded  to 
act  upon  it  at  once.  His  theory  was  that  Fred 
would  make  his  way  eastward  some  distance,  and 
then  try  to  work  his  way  north  to  Sherman's  army; 
or  when  the  fugitives  reached  Flint  River,  they 
might  decide  to  float  down  that  stream  to  the  Chat- 
tahoochee, and  so  on  to  the  Gulf.  He  would  try 
to  frustrate  either  plan  by  closely  picketing  the 
country  along  the  banks  of  the  Flint,  and  would  go 
in  person  and  see  that  it  was  well  done. 

There  was  another  consideration  which  led  Major 
Kenyon  to  greatly  desire  to  visit  the  section  of 
country  in  which  he  supposed  Fred  to  be  hiding. 
He  had  just  received  a  letter  from  a  Miss  Lucille  de 
Courtney,  informing  him  that  she  was  visiting  her 


256  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

uncle,  Judge  Chambers,  who  resided  some  forty 
miles  south  of  Macon.  This  Judge  Chambers  was 
the  father  of  Captain  Chambers  of  our  story.  This 
was  the  first  knowledge  that  Major  Kenyon  had 
that  Miss  de  Courtney  was  related  to  Captain 
Chambers,  and  the  fact  worried  him.  There  was 
a  kind  of  quasi  engagement  existing  between  Miss 
de  Courtney  and  himself,  and  he  feared  that  the 
captain  might  use  his  influence  in  prejudicing  his 
cousin  against  him. 

"Not  that  I  would  care  much,"  he  muttered, 
"if  I  could  win  Kate  Shackelford." 

Major  Kenyon  lost  no  time  in  departing  on  his 
mission,  and  on  the  very  day  that  Fred  and  Dar- 
ling were  sleeping  so  soundly  in  their  improvised 
shelter  beside  the  log  in  the  pine  wood,  Major 
Kenyon  was  swiftly  riding  south  to  lay  plans  to 
intercept  them. 

The  sun  hung  low  in  the  west  before  Fred  and 
Darling  awoke  from  their  deep  sleep.  They  felt 
much  refreshed,  and  after  partaking  of  a  hearty 
supper  of  broiled  meat,  they  were  ready  for  their 
night's  march. 

As  soon  as  it  was  fairly  dark  they  started,  trav- 
eling as  nearly  as  possible  in  an  easterly  direction. 
Making  slow  progress  through  the  woods  and  fields, 
they  ventured  to  take  the  road.  But  they  had  not 
proceeded  far,  when  they  received  a  sharp  challenge. 

Instead  of  answering,  they  beat  a  precipitate 
retreat,  a  musket-ball  whistling  past  their  heads  as 
they  did  so. 


A   MEETING    WITH  SMITH.  257 

"Who  is  it?"  they  heard  a  voice  call  out  to  the 
guard. 

"Some  prowling  niggers,  I  reckon;  surely  they 
could  not  be  escaped  Yankees.  No  Yanks  out  of 
Andersonville  could  run  as  them  fellows  did.  An- 
dersonville  Yanks  are  rather  weak  in  the  legs ;  they 
live  too  high,"  called  back  the  guard,  with  a  coarse 
laugh. 

"There  is  no  help  for  it,"  said  Fred,  as  soon  as 
they  were  out  of  danger;  "we  shall  have  to  keep 
to  the  woods  and  fields;  the  whole  country  seems  to 
be  guarded.    It  is  fortunate  they  took  us  for  niggers. ' ' 

All  through  the  night  they  slowly  picked  their 
way,  and  when  the  light  of  morning  began  to  appear, 
they  sought  out  a  secluded  place  in  the  woods  and 
lay  down  to  sleep. 

They  were  not  molested  during  the  day,  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  dark  they  continued  their  journey. 
It  was  midnight  or  after  when  they  reached  the 
Flint  River. 

Now  a  heated  discussion  took  place  as  to  what 
course  they  had  better  take.  Darling  was  in  favor 
of  trying  to  find  a  boat,  or  of  making  a  raft,  and 
floating  down  the  river  to  the  gulf.  Floating  down 
the  river,  he  claimed,  would  be  much  easier  than 
traveling  through  the  woods,  and  they  would  run 
less  risk  of  being  captured.  He  remembered  read- 
ing of  how  two  of  Andrews's  engine  thieves,  as 
they  were  called,  floated  down  the  Chattahoochee 
and  escaped  that  way. 

Fred  was  decidedly  opposed  to  the  plan.      Even 


25S  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

if  successful,  it  would  be  at  least  two  or  three 
months  before  they  could  join  Sherman's  army. 
"Then,"  continued  Fred,  "I  believe  the  danger 
much  greater.  It  is  easier  to  picket  a  single  river 
than  to  picket  a  whole  country." 

The  dispute  grew  so  warm  that  there  was  danger 
of  a  serious  disagreement,  the  first  they  had  ever 
had;  but  Darling  suddenly  ended  the  argument 
by  saying :  ' '  Captain,  say  no  more ;  I  will  trust  you. 
The  time  may  come  when  I  may  ask  you  to  trust 
me.  Then  you  are  my  superior  officer,  and  it  is 
presumptuous  in  me  not  to  obey  you." 

Fred  grasped  Darling's  hand.  "Dick,"  he 
exclaimed,  "you  have  conquered;  we  will  try  the 
river." 

"No,  we  won't,"  stoutly  replied  Darling.  "I 
am  now  convinced  your  plan  is  the  safer;  so  say 
no  more." 

This  settled,  they  both  agreed  that  it  would  be 
much  better  to  cross  the  river.  Finding  two  logs, 
they  paddled  and  floated  across  the  stream,  and  as 
it  was  getting  near  morning  they  concealed  them- 
selves in  a  thicket  near  the  bank,  first  setting  their 
logs  adrift.  As  soon  as  it  was  fairly  light,  they 
found,  to  their  consternation,  they  were  close  to 
a  road,  but  as  people  had  already  begun  to  pass 
and  repass,  it  was  too  late  to  attempt  to  change 
their  place  of  hiding. 

The  little  meat  they  had  left  was  unfit  to  eat,  so 
they  had  to  fast.  They  took  turns,  one  sleeping 
while   the    other   watched,    but    nothing   happened 


A   MEETING    WITH  SMITH.  259 

until  along  in  the  afternoon,  when  two  horsemen 
reined  in  their  horses  under  the  shade  of  a  tree, 
and  entered  into  an  earnest  conversation.  So  close 
were  they  that  Fred  and  Darling  could  hear  every 
word  that  was  said. 

One  of  the  horsemen  wore  the  uniform  of  a  Con- 
federate officer,  while  the  other  was  dressed  in  the 
uniform  of  a  Georgia  State  Guard. 

To  the  amazement  of  both  Fred  and  Darling, 
they  recognized  the  Confederate  officer  as  Major 
Kenyon.  The  first  words  that  they  heard  were 
uttered  by  the  officer  of  the  State  Guard,  who  said: 

"It  is  hardly  possible,  is  it,  Major,  that  they 
have  come  thus  far  east  and  crossed  the  river?" 

"Anything  is  possible  with  that  Captain  Shack- 
elford ;  he  is  always  doing  the  unexpected.  Where 
did  he  get  that  ax  or  hatchet  with  which  he  killed 
the  dogs?  Just  think  of  two  men  killing  or  dis- 
abling a  dozen  bloodhounds,  and  getting  off,  as  far 
as  we  know,  without  a  scratch.  Wirz  thinks  the 
fellows  went  south  after  they  got  out  of  the  swamp, 
and  most  of  his  men  are  down  that  way  looking 
after  them.  I  think  differently.  I  believe  their 
starting  south  was  only  a  blind.  I  am  confident 
that  as  soon  as  that  big  rain  came,  they  turned 
east,  and  are  now  in  the  vicinity  of  this  river. 
They  may  conclude  to  try  and  float  down  the  river 
to  the  Gulf.  I  wish  they  would,  for  I  should  have 
them  sure.  I  have  given  orders  for  the  river  to  be 
watched  so  closely  that  a  leaf  could  hardly  float 
through  without  being  noticed. 


260  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

At  these  words  Fred  pinched  Darling's  arm. 
The  noble  fellow  looked  into  Fred's  eyes  with  a  full 
heart. 

"God  bless  you,  Captain!"  he  whispered;  "you 
knew  best." 

Then  they  listened  again.  The  officer  was  say- 
ing,  "Do  you  think  they  will  try  the  river,  Major?" 

"No,  I  do  not.  I  believe  they  will  make  north, 
but  to  avoid  Macon  they  will  make  east  first.  My 
hope  is  that  I  am  ahead  of  them,  and  that  we  can 
get  track  of  them  as  they  cross  the  river.  Not 
only  does  every  road  want  to  be  picketed,  but  the 
banks  of  the  river  as  well.  This,  Lieutenant, 
I  shall  leave  to  you." 

"And  I  will  see  that  it  is  well  done.  If  these 
two  Yanks  are,  as  you  reckon,  near  here,  I  will 
make  it  hot  for  them.   You  say  they  are  not  armed  ?' ' 

"No  fire-arms;  only  an  ax  or  hatchet." 

"Well,  an  ax  will  be  of  little  use  against  this," 
and  the  lieutenant  significantly  tapped  the  butt  of 
a  revolver  which  protruded  from  a  holster." 

"I  have  no  fears,  Lieutenant,  but  that  you  will 
do  your  work  thoroughly.  But  I  must  be  going; 
I  want  to  be  at  the  plantation  of  Judge  Chambers 
to-night.      It  must  be  nearly  fifteen  miles  there." 

"Nearer  twenty,  Major.  Acquainted  there? 
A  fine  family." 

"I  have  no  use  for  the  son,"  growled  Kenyon. 
"In  fact,  if  it  were  not  that  a  young  lady  is  visiting 
there,  I  would  not  call  at  all." 

"Ah,  Major,  then  you  worship  at  the  shrine  of 


A   MEETING    WITH  SMITH.  26 1 

Cupid  as  well  as  of  Mars.  It  is  said  that  Cupid  and 
Mars  are  close  friends,  and  frequently  travel 
together.  'None  but  the  brave  deserve  the  fair.' 
Good  luck  to  you,  Major." 

"Thanks,  good-bye;  and  remember  that  ten 
thousand  dollars  reward,"  and  with  these  words  the 
major  turned  his  horse  and  galloped  northward. 

"Ten  thousand  dollars  in  Confederate  scrip," 
muttered  the  lieutenant  as  he  gazed  after  the  form 
of  the  disappearing  major.  "Bah!  it  isn't  much. 
I  wish  it  were  in  Lincoln  greenbacks  instead.     That 

would  be  worth  working  for.      D old  Abe,  but 

his  money  is  all  right." 

Just  then  a  small  dog  which  had  accompanied 
the  lieutenant,  in  running  through  the  thicket  dis- 
covered Fred  and  Darling,  and  began  to  bark  furi- 
ously. 

"What  in  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  that 
dog?"  exclaimed  the  lieutenant.  "Here,  Frisk! 
here,  Frisk!" 

But  Frisk  ran  around  and  around  his  victims, 
barking  harder  than  ever.  The  lieutenant's  suspi- 
cions were  aroused ;  he  turned  his  horse  and  began 
to  force  him  through  the  thicket  toward  the  point 
where  the  dog  was,  at  the  same  time  taking  the 
precaution  to  draw  his  revolver. 

"Great  heavens!"  excitedly  whispered  Fred, 
"we  shall  be  discovered;  our  only  hope  is  to  take 
to  the  river.      Quick,  Dick,  quick!" 

"Captain,"  answered  Darling,  hurriedly,  "don't 
run.     Trust  me  now.      Surrender  when  he  tells  you 


262  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

to";  and  with  these  words,  Darling  darted  behind 
a  tree  which  stood  close  by. 

The  Confederate  uttered  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise when  he  saw  Fred,  and  leveling  his  revolver, 
cried:  "Hello,  Yank!  hands  up!  and  be  quick 
about  it,  too." 

Fred  threw  up  his  hands  without  a  word,  and 
stood  still. 

"Well,  Yank,"  continued  the  lieutenant  as  he 
rode  his  horse  close  up  to  Fred,  still  keeping  him 
covered  with  his  revolver,  "in  hard  luck,  aren't 
you?  Where  is  your  comrade?  I  hear  there  is 
a  pair  of  you." 

Those  were  the  last  words  he  ever  spoke.  The 
ax,  thrown  like  a  tomahawk  by  the  sinewy  arm  of 
Darling,  came  flashing  through  the  air.  Fairly  and 
squarely  it  struck  the  Confederate  in  the  forehead, 
and  he  tumbled  from  his  horse,  his  skull  cleft 
through  and  through. 

Darling  stepped  out  from  behind  the  tree  with 
a  smile  of  triumph  on  his  face.  To  Fred's  look  of 
astonishment  he  replied:  "That  is  a  little  trick 
I  learned  while  on  the  plains.  I  have  beaten  the 
boss  Indian  at  his  own  game  in  throwing  the  toma- 
hawk." 

"Dick,"  said  Fred,  "when  you  told  me  to  trust 
you,  I  did,  although  I  had  no  idea  what  you 
intended  to  do.  It  took  faith,  my  boy,  to  stand 
still  and  let  that  fellow  ride  up  to  me  with  that 
leveled  revolver." 

"I   knew  I  should   not   fail  you,  Captain,  when 


FRED    THREW    UP    HIS    HANDS    WITHOUT    A    WORD. 


A   MEETING    WITH  SMITH.  263 

I  told  you  to  trust  me,"  said  Darling,  as  he  went 
and  picked  up  the  dead  man's  revolver.  "This  is 
a  splendid  weapon,  Captain,"  he  continued,  as 
he  examined  the  pistol;  "in  your  hands  it  is  good 
for  any  half  a  dozen  rebels.  It  will  be  a  sorry  day 
for  any  small  squad  who  may  attempt  to  take  us 
now." 

Fred  took  the  revolver  and  looked  at  it.  It  was 
indeed  a  fine  weapon.  "Dick,"  he  exclaimed, 
"with  this  I  feel  myself  a  soldier  once  more.  It  is 
precious,  for  it  is  the  price  of  a  human  life;  but  it 
may  be  the  means  of  saving  us  and  giving  us  our 
freedom." 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Darling,  looking  at  the  dead 
officer;  "I  had  nothing  against  him,  but  I  had  to 
kill  him.  A  fine-looking  fellow,  too,  Captain.  War 
is  an  awful  thing!" 

' '  I  have  found  it  so, ' '  replied  Fred,  in  a  low  tone ; 
and  his  voice  trembled  as  he  spoke. 

The  little  dog  which  had  caused  the  mischief 
was  still  barking  furiously.  "Dick,"  said  Fred, 
"I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  shoot  that  dog;  he  will 
bring  some  one  else  down  on  us." 

"Hold  on,  Captain;  the  sound  of  a  shot  may 
mean  our  ruin.  First  let  us  secure  the  horse,  and 
then  I  will  fix  the  dog." 

Fortunately  the  horse  proved  to  be  tame,  and 
it  was  easily  caught  and  securely  tied.  "Now," 
said  Darling,  "for  the  dog.  Let  us  fall  back  a  few 
paces  from  the  body." 

They   did   so,  and    the   dog   at   once   ran  to   his 


264  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

dead  master.  Seeing  that  he  did  not  stir,  the 
faithful  little  animal  caught  him  by  the  sleeve  and 
pulled,  as  if  to  awaken  him.  That  moment  Dar- 
ling's ax  went  twirling  through  the  air  once  more, 
and  master  and  dog  lay  dead  together. 

"No  more  trouble  there,"  remarked  Darling,  as 
he  picked  up  the  ax;  "but  I  feel  like  a  double  mur- 
derer." 

"Dick,  don't  say  that;  I  don't  like  to  hear  it. 
Remember  Andersonville.  Remember  the  thou- 
sands of  wretches  there  dying  by  inches.  Remem- 
ber the  ghastly  row  of  the  dead.  Remember  there 
is  a  price  on  our  heads,  and  what  our  fate  will  be 
if  caught." 

"Aye!  I  remember,"  cried  Darling,  with  flash- 
ing eyes.  "And  if  a  thousand  men  stood  in  be- 
tween us  and  freedom  I  would  take  the  life  of 
every  one.  But,  Captain,  what  shall  we  do  with 
the  bodies?" 

Fred  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said:  "We 
would  better  put  them  in  the  river.  If  the  bodies 
are  found  here,  the  whole  country  will  be  scoured." 

"A  good  idea,"  answered  Darling;  "but  we 
had  better  wait  until  dark.  It  may  be  dangerous 
now." 

They  did  not  have  to  wait  long,  and  then  the 
bodies  of  both  man  and  dog  were  thrown  into  the 
river,  and  the  current  quickly  bore  them  away. 

"Now,"  said  Darling,  "let  us  get  out  of  this 
uncanny  spot.  But  what  shall  we  do  with  the 
horse?" 


A   MEETING    WITH  SMITH.  265 

"Let's  ride  him,  if  he  will  let  us.  By  this  means 
we  can  again  hide  our  trail." 

"A  capital  idea;  then  I  don't  feel  like  walking. 
Zounds!  I  am  so  hungry  I  could  eat  Andersonville 
mush." 

"Dick,"  answered  Fred,  "come  what  may,  we 
must  find  food  to-night,  but  first  let  us  get  away 
from  this." 

They  had  some  trouble  in  making  the  horse  carry 
double;  but  at  length  they  conquered,  and  taking 
the  road,  they  turned  the  horse's  head  northward. 
The  night  was  dark,  and  the  only  fear  they  had 
was  of  meeting  some  one.  They  had  ridden  about 
five  miles,  when  they  came  to  a  small  creek.  Stop- 
ping to  let  their  horse  drink,  they  were  startled  by 
the  sound  of  horses'  feet  and  the  voices  of  men 
a  short  distance  in  front. 

"Dick,"  whispered  Fred,  "there  is  a  large  party 
almost  on  us;  we  must  let  the  horse  go." 

Hastily  dismounting,  Fred  turned  the  horse's 
head,  and  gave  him  a  sharp  blow,  and  with  a  snort 
he  went  galloping  down  the  road. 

"Who  is  there?"  shouted  one  of  the  horsemen. 
"Halt  there!  Halt!"  and  the  whole  party  went 
thundering  by  in  pursuit. 

"A  good  riddance,"  laughed  Fred.  "I  hope 
the  horse  will  give  them  a  good  race  before  they 
catch  him.  Now,  Dick,  let  us  make  tracks  up 
this  creek.  Keep  in  the  water;  it  leaves  no 
tracks." 

After    going    a  short    distance,    Fred    stopped, 


266  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

and  said:  "I  wonder  what  is  growing  in  this  field; 
it  rustles  like  corn.      Let  me  see." 

In  a  moment  he  called  out:  "Dick,  Dick,  it's 
corn — green  corn,  just  right  for  roasting.  Now  if 
we  only  had  some  fire,  we  could  have  a  feast." 

"Fire!  we  shall  have  fire;  I  have  matches," 
answered  Darling,  gleefully. 

"Matches,  Dick!  matches!  Where  in  the  world 
did  you  get  matches?" 

"When  we  put  the  body  of  the  lieutenant  in 
the  river,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  see  what  he  had 
in  his  pockets,  and  what  do  you  think  I  found? 
A  box  full  of  matches,  a  big  roll  of  Confederate 
money,  and  a  comb — yes,  Captain,  a  comb.  I  kept 
my  discovery  secret,  thinking  to  give  you  an  agree- 
able surprise." 

"And  you  have,  Dick,  you  have.  Now  for 
a  feast,  sure  enough!  And  a  comb!  Why,  Dick, 
we  can  comb  our  hair  now.  The  news  is  almost 
too  good  to  be  true." 

It  did  not  take  long  for  each  of  them  to  gather 
an  armful  of  corn.  Then  they  waded  up  the  little 
stream  until  they  entered  a  wood.  Making  their 
way  into  the  wood  for  some  distance,  they  halted 
and  made  preparations  to  cook  their  corn.  Digging 
a  hole  and  making  a  bed  of  coals  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  they  did  for  the  meat,  they  were  soon  feast- 
ing on  roasted  corn. 

' '  I  never  knew  roast  corn  was  so  good, ' '  remarked 
Darling,  as  he  tossed  aside  his  sixth  cob. 

"It   is   certainly   a  fine   feast,"  answered  Fred* 


A   MEETING    WITH  SMITH.  267 

"I  believe  this  corn  is  better  than  roast  pork  with- 
out salt. 

"Pork  can't  hold  a  candle  to  it,"  laughed  Dar- 
ling, tossing  aside  another  cob.  "There  is  no  danger 
of  our  suffering  for  food  as  long  as  green  corn  and 
our  matches  hold  out." 

The  feast  over,  they  felt  like  new  men  and  were 
ready  for  their  night's  journey,  taking  for  their 
guide  the  north  star.  But  the  night  was  dark,  and 
it  was  slow  traveling  through  the  woods  and  over 
fields,  and  they  had  not  made  over  three  miles 
when  the  approaching  day  warned  them  to  seek 
a  secure  hiding-place.  To  make  sure  of  at  least 
one  more  good  meal,  they  had  carried  along  enough 
corn  for  their  breakfast. 

As  they  were  looking  for  a  place  that  would  suit 
them,  Fred  suddenly  grasped  Darling's  arm  and 
whispered:  "Listen!   I  hear  footsteps." 

It  was  now  light  enough  to  see,  and  they  soon 
discovered  a  negro  coming  toward  them.  He 
passed  near  them,  but  did  not  notice  them,  as  his 
whole  attention  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  a  small 
basket  which  he  was  carrying.  Just  as  he  was 
opposite  them,  he  peeped  into  the  basket  as  if  to 
see  if  everything  was  all  right,  and  they  heard  him  say 
to  himself,    ' '  Mighty  good  breakfast  fo'  ole  massa. ' ' 

He  was  a  negro  of  gigantic  size,  and  as  black  as 
ebony. 

"Dick,"  whispered  Fred,  "let's  follow  that  fel- 
low and  see  where  he  goes." 

"Would  it  not  be  dangerous?"  asked   Darling. 


268  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"I  think  not,  even  if  he  discovered  us.  Union 
soldiers  are  hardly  ever  betrayed  by  a  slave.  I  want 
to  see  to  whom  he  is  taking  that  food.  It  may  be 
to  some  escaped  prisoner." 

So  they  followed  the  negro,  being  careful  to 
keep  out  of  his  sight.  He  soon  disappeared  in 
a  hollow.  Creeping  up  to  where  they  could  look 
down  in  the  hollow,  they  were  surprised  to  see  the 
negro  standing  before  a  rude  shelter  built  by  placing 
pieces  of  bark  against  a  large  log. 

In  front  of  the  little  shelter  a  white  man  was  sit- 
ting, eating  food  from  the  basket  just  brought  by 
the  negro.  Fred  gave  one  look  at  the  man,  and 
then  uttered  a  joyful  cry  of  "Smith!  It's  Smith!" 
and  made  a  rush  for  him. 

The  old  scout  looked  up  just  as  the  negro,  with 
a  growl  like  a  wild  beast,  sprang  in  between  him 
and  Fred,  brandishing  a  huge  club.  Fred  would 
have  been  struck  to  the  earth,  if  he  had  not  stopped 
in  his  headlong  rush. 

Smith  saw  who  it  was,  and  cried  out :  "A  friend, 
Joe,  a  friend;   it's  the  captain." 

The  club  slowly  sank  to  the  ground,  and  the 
next  moment  the  old  scout  and  Fred  were  in  each 
other's  arms.  Then  Darling  had  to  give  him  a  big 
hug.  It  was  a  joyful  meeting,  that,  in  the  woods 
of  Georgia,  and  the  gigantic  negro  stood  and  looked 
wonderingly  on. 

When  the  surprise  and  congratulations  were 
over,  Fred  asked,  "How  in  the  world  did  you  get 
here,  Smith?" 


A   MEETING    WITH  SMITH.  269 

"I  never  would  hev  bin  heah  if  it  had  not  bin 
for  Joe,"  answered  Smith,  looking  with  kindly  eyes 
on  the  negro. 

"Tell  us  all  about  your  escape,  Smith;  it  must 
have  been  simply  wonderful.  Darling  and  I  both 
thought  that  you  would  be  really  dead  by  morning 
when  we  saw  you  carted  away  in  that  fearful  load." 

"Hev  something  to  eat  fust,"  said  the  old  man. 

The  negro  Joe  roasted  the  corn  which  Fred  and 
Darling  had  brought,  and  with  the  provisions  that 
Smith  had  they  all  made  a  magnificent  meal.  The 
old  scout  then  told  the  following  story: 

"That  war  a  fearful  ride  with  all  of  them  dead 
men,  an'  I  war  furtunate  in  bein'  placed  on  top. 
It  would  hev  bin  awful,  all  of  them  dead  piled  on 
me.  I  shall  never  forget  how  the  po'  fellers  under 
me  and  on  each  side  of  me  felt,  so  cold  and  clammy. 
Once  outside,  we  war  piled  off  like  so  many  dead 
dogs,  and  left  until  mornin'  to  be  put  in  the 
ground. 

"It  seemed  as  if  they  would  never  get  to  sleep; 
and  thar  I  lay  with  the  dead  all  round  me,  an'  even 
on  top  of  me.  I  got  cold — oh,  so  cold !  as  cold  as 
the  corpses.  At  last  I  could  stand  it  no  longer, 
and  I  crawled  away — crawled  over  the  dead — I 
don't  know  how  many.  When  I  got  clear  of  the 
dead,  I  crept  along  until  I  got  in  the  shadder  of 
some  tents  and  managed  to  stagger  to  my  feet. 
Jest  as  I  did  so  I  heard  some  one  cry  out:  'Oh! 
my  God,  my  God!'  and  thar  stood  a  solger  scared 
almost    to    death.      He    thought    I    war    a    ghost. 


270  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Then  he  asked,  all  trembly  like,  'Who  air  yo'?' 
'John  Smith,'  said  I,  'John  Smith,  of  ole  Kentuck, 
an'  for  God's  sake  knock  me  in  the  head  ;  don't  put 
me  back  in  that  pen.'  Then  he  told  me  he  was 
one  of  the  Union  boys  who  worked  on  the  outside 
under  parole.  'Can't  yo'  do  somethin'  fo'  me?'  I 
asked.  At  fust  he  refused,  then  he  said:  'Smith, 
a  dead  man  who  has  come  to  life  should  be  saved ; 
I  will  try  an'  save  yo'  if  I  hang  for  it.' 

"He  took  me  to  whar  a  big  pile  of  boxes  was, 
and  pointing  to  one,  said:  'Git  in  thar,  lay  still 
until  I  cum  back.'  He  war  gone  a  long  time,  then 
he  cum  back  with  an'  ole  blouse  for  me  to  put  on, 
and  a  piece  of  corn  bread.  'Now,'  said  he,  'take 
these,  an'  when  yo'  heah  the  guards  call  out, 
"Twelve  o'clock,  and  all  is  well,"  yo'  git.  Go 
that  way,  the  guard  will  not  trouble  yo'.  Good- 
bye' ;  an'  he  was  gone. 

"I  did  as  he  said,  and  though  I  passed  within 
ten  feet  of  a  guard,  he  never  see  me;  was  lookin' 
the  other  way.  But  I  foun'  I  could  hardly  walk. 
I  staggered  on  an'  on,  an'  at  last  foun'  myself  in 
the  woods,  an*  lay  down  under  a  tree.  Oh,  it  was 
sweet  to  heah  the  wind  singin'  through  the  trees 
an'  to  think  I  was  free.  'Jes'  let  me  die  right 
heah,'  I  thought,  an'  it  war  all  I  asked.  I  reckon 
I  must  hev  dozed,  fo'  I  was  startled  by  some  one 
runnin'  through  the  woods,  and  then  some  one 
stubbed  his  toe  agin  me  and  fell. 

'Fo'    the    Lawd,    what's   dat?'    he   said,  as  he 
scrambled  to  his  feet,  an'  then  I  knew  it  was  a  nig- 


A   MEETING    WITH  SMITH.  27 1 

ger.  'It's  me,  John  Smith,'  said  I;  and  then  he 
asked,   'Air  yo'  a  Yank?'  an'  I  say  'Yes.' 

"That  nigger  was  Joe,  heah.  He  told  me  he  had 
bin  workin'  on  the  stockade,  an'  was  runnin'  away 
back  to  his  ole  master,  they  'bused  him  so.  An' 
what  do  yo'  reckon  that  nigger  did?  He  tuk  me  in 
his  arms  like  a  baby.  Since  then  he  has  toted  me 
for  miles.  He  has  fit  over  me  for  our  lives,  killin' 
two  bloodhounds.  He  has  toted  me  thro' 
swamps,  swam  rivers  with  me  on  his  back,  and 
found  food  for  me  to  eat.  Heah  the  fever  tuk  me, 
an'  he  has  made  friends  with  the  niggers  on  the 
plantation,  and  gets  me  these  nice  things  to  eat. 
He  says  he  will  never  leave  me." 

"Captain,"  continued  the  old  man,  with  the 
tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks,  "I  never  tho't 
much  of  niggers;  I  hev  said  they  had  no  souls,  that 
they  was  fit  for  nothin'  but  slaves.  But,  Captain, 
Joe  is  white — white  clar  thro'." 

Fred  took  the  big  black  hand  of  Joe  in  his,  and 
said,  "Joe,  God  bless  you,  you  are  a  hero!" 

Joe  shuffled  his  feet,  wiped  his  eyes  with  the  back 
of  his  hand,  and  said:  "Massa  Captin',  I  die  fo' 
de  Yankees.  I  lub  Massa  Linkum.  I  lub  Massa 
Smith  heah;   ole  Joe  nevah  leave  him." 

Fred  soon  learned  the  history  of  Joe.  His  master 
lived  near  Milledgeville;  he  was  a  good  master,  but 
he  had  hired  or  given  Joe's  services  to  the  Confed- 
eracy for  the  purpose  of  building  the  stockade  at 
Andersonville.  Here  he  had  been  cruelly  used,  and 
he  had   run   away,  thinking  to  get   back  to   his  old 


272  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

master  and  his  wife  and  children.  He  met  Smith 
as  related,  and  never  was  a  dog  more  devoted  to 
a  master  than  was  Joe  to  Smith. 

Fred  told  Smith  the  story  of  his  and  Darling's 
escape,  and  when  he  had  finished,  he  said:  "Now, 
Smith,  we  will  all  journey  together  toward  the 
North  and  freedom." 

The  old  scout  shook  his  head.  "Captain,"  he 
said,  "I  shall  never  see  ole  Kentuck  agin,  or  the 
ole  woman  and  the  gals." 

The  old  man's  eyes  were  unnaturally  bright,  and 
he  was  burning  with  fever.  It  did  not  require 
a  physician  to  tell  that  his  words  were  true,  and 
that  the  old  scout's  days  were  nearly  spent. 

"Captain,"  earnestly  continued  Smith,  "y°' 
must  leave  me;  yo'  and  Dick  must  go  on;  Joe  will 
take  care  of  me." 

Fred  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  gently  said : 
"My  old  comrade,  more  than  once  you  have  risked 
your  life  for  me.  You  have  stood  by  me  in  my 
hour  of  sorest  need,  and  now  do  you  ask  me  to 
desert  you?  No,  comrade,  no.  If  die  you  must 
away  from  your  old  Kentucky  home,  away  from 
wife  and  children,  it  is  my  place  to  receive  your  last 
words,  and  bear  them  to  those  you  love.  I  will 
never  leave  you,  Smith,  as  long  as  your  life  lasts. 
Don't  ask  me." 

The  old  scout  gently  pressed  Fred's  hand,  and 
turning  away  his  face,  his  emaciated  form  shook 
with  convulsive  sobs. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

FAITHFUL  UNTO  DEATH. 

WHEN  Smith  found  that  Fred  and  Darling 
would  not  kave  him,  he  declared  that  he 
would  accompany  them,  and  insisted  that  they 
should  continue  their  journey  as  soon  as  it  was  dark. 

"The  nearer  I  can  die  to  ole  Kentuck,"  he  said, 
"the  happier  I  shall  be.  I  shall  live  longer  on  my 
feet  than  I  shall  layin'  heah." 

Fred  believed  this  to  be  true,  so  he  gave  his 
consent  to  resuming  their  flight  as  soon  as  darkness 
came.  Their  coming  had  put  new  life  in  the  old 
scout,  and  he  seemed  much  better.  This  determin- 
ation to  move,  although  they  did  not  know  it  at 
the  time,  saved  the  whole  party  from  death  or  cap- 
ture. 

The  State  troops  which  pursued  the  horse  aban- 
doned by  Fred  and  Darling,  captured  him  after  an 
exciting  chase  of  about  five  miles.  It  was  recog- 
nized as  belonging  to  Lieutenant  Brown  of  the 
State  troops.  Instantly  all  was  excitement.  Where 
was  Brown?  All  through  the  night  the  search  was 
kept  up,  without  success.  By  morning  the  whole 
country  was  in  a  state  of  ferment.  The  news  was 
quickly  carried  to   Major  Kenyon  at  Judge  Cham- 

273 


274  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

bers's.  The  major  was  astounded  at  the  tidings, 
and  came  hurrying  back.  He  was  in  a  towering 
rage,  for  he  had  met  with  a  cold  reception  from 
Miss  Lucille  de  Courtney,  a  reception  no  lover 
would  expect  from  a  lady  whom  he  hoped  to 
marry. 

Lucille  de  Courtney  was  a  resident  of  Columbia, 
South  Carolina.  When  she  was  about  sixteen  years 
of  age,  she  met  Major  Kenyon,  who  paid  her 
marked  attention.  Miss  de  Courtney  was  of  French 
Huguenot  extraction,  and  inherited  all  the  strict 
adherence  to  principle  of  her  ancestors,  as  well  as 
a  fair  quantity  of  their  fiery  disposition. 

She  was  called  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  South 
Carolina.  Her  eyes  were  dark  brown,  her  eye- 
lashes long  and  black,  and  her  hair  was  of  that 
beautiful  indescribable  brown  which  gleams  like 
gold  when  the  sunlight  falls  upon  it.  She  was 
neither  blond  nor  brunette,  but  the  rich  blood  flow- 
ing beneath  gave  a  faint  rosy  tint  to  a  complexion 
as  clear  as  alabaster. 

Major  Kenyon  was  of  an  aristocratic  family,  rich 
and  handsome.  There  was  hardly  a  scheming 
mother  in  South  Carolina  but  would  have  rejoiced 
to  have  Arthur  Kenyon  for  a  son-in-law.  He  was 
in  manners  a  perfect  gentleman  in  the  presence  of 
ladies,  a  master  of  small  talk  and  flattery.  By 
nature  he  was  cold,  cruel,  and  selfish,  but  these 
characteristics  he  kept  in  the  background.  His 
habits  were  also  such  as  not  to  commend  him  to 
a  true  woman.      But  when  a  man  is  rich  and  hand- 


FAITHFUL    UNTO  DEATH.  275 

some,  his  personal  habits  have  little  to  do  with  his 
entrance  into  society. 

Flattered  with  the  attentions  of  such  a  popular 
man  and  leader  of  society  as  Arthur  Kenyon,  when 
he  proposed  Miss  de  Courtney  referred  him  to  her 
father,  for  she  was  motherless. 

But  Mr.  de  Courtney  demurred,  not  only  on 
account  of  the  extreme  youth  of  his  daughter,  but 
also  on  the  account  that  Kenyon  had  just  entered 
the  army. 

"You  should  not  ask  Lucille,"  said  he,  "to 
enter  into  an  engagement  at  her  age,  especially  in 
these  troublesome  times.  If,  when  the  war  is  over, 
you  and  she  remain  of  the  same  mind,  I  shall  offer 
no  objections.  But  I  shall  positively  at  this  time 
prohibit  an  engagement,  for  with  my  old-fashioned 
views,  I  consider  an  engagement  almost  as  sacred 
as  marriage." 

And  with  this  Major  Kenyon  had  to  be  content, 
for  Lucille  readily  yielded  to  the  wishes  of  her 
father — in  fact,  was  glad  it  was  so. 

Three  years  had  passed  since  that  time.  During 
this  period  they  met  two  or  three  times.  But 
owing  to  circumstances,  two  years  had  passed  since 
they  had  met.  Mr.  de  Courtney  was  sent  to  Europe 
on  an  important  secret  mission,  and  while  he  was 
away  Lucille  was  sent  to  a  convent  to  school,  and 
during  all  this  time  her  letters  to  Major  Kenyon  were 
cold,  formal  affairs,  merely  such  as  one  would  write 
to  an  acquaintance.  As  she  grew  older  she  began 
to  doubt  her  love  for  him.      She  also  heard  rumors 


276  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

in  regard  to  his  habits  and  disposition  which,  if  true, 
would  render  her  miserable  as  his  wife,  and  she 
resolved  to  tell  him,  when  she  had  an  opportunity, 
that  there  could  be  nothing  between  them. 

Major  Kenyon  noticed  that  her  letters  were  less 
frequent  and  very  cold  and  formal,  but  he  consid- 
ered that  it  was  owing  to  the  rules  of  the  school. 
His  vanity  was  so  great  he  thought  that  even  if  she 
was  forgetting  him,  he  had  only  to  see  her  and  his 
victory  was  assured — that  is,  if  he  wished  to  win 
her,  of  which  he  was  not  quite  sure.  It  all  depended 
on  what  he  thought.  Her  wishes  did  not  enter  into 
his  considerations. 

"All  I  ask,"  he  said  to  himself,  "is  that  she 
keep  herself  free.  I  shall  soon  have  her  breaking 
her  heart,  if  I  smile  on  another  girl." 

Miss  de  Courtney  was  now  out  of  school.  She  had 
written  to  Major  Kenyon  that  she  was  staying  with 
her  uncle,  Judge  Chambers,  and  the  major  eagerly 
embraced  the  opportunity  of  visiting  her. 

It  was  so  late  when  he  reached  Judge  Cham- 
bers's that  night  after  he  had  separated  from  Lieu- 
tenant Brown  that  Miss  de  Courtney  had  retired, 
and  he  did  not  meet  her  until  the  next  morning  at 
breakfast.  She  welcomed  him  merely  as  an 
acquaintance,  and  he  saw  no  look  of  love  in  her  face. 

Major  Kenyon  had  heard  of  how  beautiful  she 
had  grown,  but  he  was  not  prepared  for  the  vision 
of  loveliness  that  stood  before  him.  Kate  Shack- 
elford was  forgotten  in  an  instant,  and  he  resolved 
that  come  what  would  he  would  win  back  Lucille's 


FAITHFUL    UNTO  DEATH.  277 

love,  if  he  had  lost  it;  and  he  grew  pale  at  the 
thought.  But  he  would  win  her;  never  was  cavalier 
more  devoted,  more  true,  than  he  would  be — in 
fact,  Major  Kenyon  was  madly,  desperately  in  love. 

But  hardly  was  the  meal  finished,  and  as  yet  he 
had  had  no  opportunity  for  a  private  interview  with 
Miss  de  Courtney,  when  the  news  came  of  Lieuten- 
ant Brown's  disappearance. 

"Why,"  he  cried,  "it  was  only  last  evening 
I  left  him,  after  giving  him  full  directions  about 
capturing  two  escaped  Yankee  prisoners  whom 
I  suspected  of  lurking  in  the  neighborhood." 

"And  he  has  not  been  seen  since,"  replied  the 
messenger.  "Is  it  possible  he  could  have  come 
across  the  escaped  Yankees,  and  met  with  foul  play  ?' ' 

"It  is  hardly  probable,"  said  the  major;  "for 
he  was  armed,  and  the  Yankees  had  no  arms  except 
an  ax  or  hatchet." 

"But  even  with  a  hatchet  they  could  have  am- 
bushed him,  or  had  it  hidden  in  their  clothes  and 
taken  him  unawares.  I  tell  you,  Major,  I  fear  the 
worst.  Lieutenant  Brown  was  a  man  who  would 
not  hesitate  to  attempt  to  capture  those  Yankees,  if 
he  came  across  them." 

"Where  did  you  say  the  horse  was  captured?" 
asked  the  major,  in  an  anxious  voice. 

The  man  told  him  as  near  as  he  was  able. 
"That  is  very  near  the  place  where  I  left  him," 
replied  the  major.  "This  must  be  looked  into  at 
once."  Then  speaking  to  Miss  de  Courtney,  he 
said:  "I   am   so   sorry  duty  calls  me  away  before 


27S  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

I  have  had  time  to  speak  more  than  a  few  words  to 
you;  but  I  will  return  as  soon  as  possible."  Low- 
ering his  voice,  he  whispered:  "You  do  not  know 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Lucille.  The  thought 
that  at  some  future  time  I  might  claim  you  has 
been  more  than  life  to  me";  and  he  attempted  to 
take  her  hand,  but  a  look  which  he  saw  in  her  face 
stopped  him. 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  exclaimed  aloud: 
"To  a  soldier  duty  is  sometimes  a  hard  master. 
Farewell,  until  I  see  you  again";  and  putting  spurs 
to  his  horse,  he  galloped  swiftly  southward,  with 
a  tempest  raging  in  his  bosom.  For  the  first  time 
he  began  to  doubt  himself.  She  might  be  harder 
to  win  than  he  thought;  and  he  cursed  Captain 
Shackelford  for  being  the  means  of  calling  him  from 
her  side.  But  if  in  the  power  of  man,  he  would 
return  successful  and  crowned  with  honor. 

He  had  a  good  twenty  miles'  ride  before  him, 
but  he  covered  it  in  two  hours.  Nothing  had  been 
found  as  yet  of  the  missing  lieutenant.  A  careful 
search  was  made,  and  the  place  where  the  lieuten- 
ant met  his  death  was  discovered.  The  bloody 
stains  were  found,  and  the  trail  which  led  to  the 
river. 

"He  has  been  murdered  and  his  body  thrown 
into  the  river,"  declared  the  major,  with  a  fearful 
oath. 

"Can  the  escaped  Yankee  prisoners  have  done 
it?"  demanded  the  excited  citizens  who  had  joined 
in  the  search. 


FAITHFUL    UNTO   DEATH,  279 

"Who  else  could  have  done  it?"  demanded  the 
major. 

"We  will  string  them  up  like  dogs  if  we  catch 
them,"  cried  the  excited  men. 

"Catch  them!  They  must  be  caught.  String 
them  up,  string  them  up,  as  you  say;  don't  give 
the  Confederate  government  the  trouble  of  trying 
them.  By  the  way,  I  remember  Brown  had  a  small 
dog  with  him,  and  just  as  I  rode  away  I  heard  the 
dog  bark.      Has  the  dog  been  seen?" 

No,  it  had  not. 

Just  then  some  men  who  had  been  searching  the 
river  below  came  back,  bringing  with  them  the  body 
of  the  dog,  which  they  had  found  floating  in  the 
eddy  of  the  stream.  It  had  been  cleft  almost  in 
twain  by  a  blow  from  a  sharp  instrument,  evidently 
an  ax. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  cried  the  major.  "We 
now  know  the  fate  of  poor  Brown ;  he  was  murdered 
with  an  ax,  and  that  devil  and  spy,  Shackelford, 
did  it." 

Dogs  were  placed  on  the  trail,  but  they  ran 
around  and  around,  utterly  at  fault. 

"Could  the  fellows  have  taken  wings  and  flown 
away?"  asked  the  owner  of  the  dogs. 

"It  is  not  a  case  of  wings,"  replied  one  of  the 
party;  "like  wise  men  they  took  to  the  river. 
Water  leaves  no  trail.  They  are  well  down  the 
river  by  this  time." 

"If   they  are,"  said   the    major,    "they   should 


280  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

have  been  captured  before  this.  I  have  the  river 
thoroughly  picketed." 

"Perhaps  they  crossed  the  river  and  took  to  the 
woods  on  the  other  side,"  said  another. 

"We  will  search  everywhere,"  replied  the  major; 
"but  I  have  a  different  opinion." 

"What  is  it,  Major?"  they  all  asked  in  the  same 
breath. 

"How  did  Lieutenant  Brown's  horse  come  five 
miles  up  the  road?"  asked  Major  Kenyon.  "I  will 
tell  you.  Those  fellows  rode  him  away.  Hearing 
a  squad  of  horsemen  coming,  they  abandoned  the 
horse,  after  turning  him  around,  and  sent  him  flying 
down  the  road  for  you  fellows  to  chase." 

"It  could  be  done,"  cried  the  owner  of  the 
dogs;  "and  by  so  doing  they  would  leave  no  trail. 
It's  no  wonder  the  dogs  couldn't  follow  them." 

"We  must  look  everywhere,"  said  the  major, 
"but  I  believe  they  went  north  on  the  horse.  You, 
Bowen,  take  a  party,  and  thoroughly  scour  the 
country  below.  You,  Hughes,  take  another  party, 
cross  the  river,  and  search  the  country  in  every 
direction.  I,  with  the  third  party,  will  proceed  up 
the  river  to  where  the  horse  was  abandoned." 

This  was  agreed  to,  and  they  separated,  all 
going  their  several  ways.  A  storm  was  gathering 
around  the  heads  of  Fred  and  Darling,  and  as  yet 
they  were  unaware  of  it.  But  one  thing  they 
knew,  and  that  was  that  if  captured  there  would  be 
no  mercy  shown  them.  The  slaying  of  the  officer 
of  the  Home  Guard  would  be  avenged. 


FAITHFUL    UNTO  DEATH.  281 

There  resided  about  eight  miles  south  of  Judge 
Chambers's  a  planter  named  Norton.  The  two 
families  were  very  intimate,  and  on  this  very  day 
Mrs.  Chambers,  with  the  other  ladies  of  the  family, 
had  made  an  engagement  to  go  down  and  spend  the 
afternoon  with  the  Nortons.  Judge  Chambers  was 
to  come  down  in  the  evening,  take  tea  with  the 
family,  and  accompany  the  ladies  home. 

Now  it  was  the  Norton  plantation  which  was 
visited  by  the  negro  Joe,  and  it  was  from  one  of 
Norton's  slaves,  a  kind-hearted  fellow  named 
George,  that  he  received  his  supplies  for  Smith. 

When  Mrs.  Chambers  arrived,  she  found  the 
family  intensely  excited  over  the  reported  disap- 
pearance of  Lieutenant  Brown,  and  little  else  was 
talked  of. 

Judge  Chambers  arrived  late  in  the  evening, 
and  a  few  minutes  afterwards  Major  Kenyon  and 
his  party  put  in  an  appearance.  They  had  been 
scouring  the  country  all  day,  but  had  failed  to  find 
the  slightest  trace  of  the  fugitives. 

Both  Judge  Chambers  and  Mr.  Norton  were 
greatly  shocked  when  they  heard  that  Lieutenant 
Brown  had  been  murdered,  as  they  termed  it. 

"Who  could  have  done  it?"  asked  Mr.  Norton, 
his  voice  trembling  with  excitement. 

"Why,  it  was  those  escaped  Yankee  prisoners, 
that  devil  Shackelford  and  his  companion.  They 
are  desperate  men.  If  it  had  not  been  for  Captain 
Chambers,  I  would  have  had  Shackelford  arrested 
as  a  spy  long    before    he  reached    Andersonville. 


282  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

I  have  an  account  to — "  Major  Kenyon  suddenly 
stopped.  In  his  excitement  he  had  forgotten  that 
Judge  Chambers  was  present. 

"What  of  Captain  Chambers?"  asked  the  judge, 
his  voice  full  of  suppressed  rage.  "Who  is  this 
Shackelford?  And  do  you  mean  to  accuse  my  son 
of  shielding  a  spy  and  murderer?" 

"No,  no,  Judge!"  quickly  replied  Kenyon, 
anxious  to  make  amends  for  his  mistake.  "Your 
son  is  too  true  a  soldier  to  shield  an  enemy  of  his 
country;  but  he  erred  from  mistaken  ideas  of 
chivalry.  Do  you  know  it  was  this  same  Shackel- 
ford who  came  so  near  killing  him  on  Lookout?" 

"Impossible!"  exclaimed  the  judge. 

"Nevertheless  it  is  true.  When  the  Yankee 
Colonel  Capron  was  routed  at  the  close  of  the 
Stoneman  raid,  this  Shackelford  was  taken  prisoner 
by  your  son.  He  knew  him,  and  treated  him  with 
the  greatest  consideration.  The  fellow  passed  him- 
self off  as  a  private  soldier,  and  under  an  assumed 
name.  I  told  Chambers  the  fellow  was  an  officer, 
and  I  believed  a  celebrated  Yankee  spy,  but  he 
would  not  believe  it.  Unfortunately,  I  was  ordered 
away  on  duty,  and  before  I  returned  the  prisoners 
had  been  sent  to  Andersonville.  By  this  time  I  had 
the  best  of  evidence  that  the  fellow  was  no  other 
than  Captain  Fred  Shackelford,  the  chief  of  General 
Sherman's  scouts.  He  is  also  known  as  a  spy,  he 
having  been  in  our  lines  several  times  dressed  in 
Confederate  uniform.  By  the  time  I  had  gathered 
together  the  threads  of  the  tangled  skein  and  gone 


FAITHFUL    UNTO  DEATH.  283 

to  Andersonville  to  arrest  him,  he  had  escaped. 
I  would  say  I  found  a  cousin  of  Shackelford,  a  Cap- 
tain Pennington,  and  unfortunately  chief  of  our 
secret  service,  at  Andersonville  when  I  arrived,  and 
I  believe  he  had  come  with  the  purpose  of  shielding 
him." 

"Why!  why!"  cried  Mr.  Norton;  "this  looks 
like  treason  in  our  own  ranks.  Who  is  this  Captain 
Shackelford  that  even  Confederate  officers  try  to 
shield?" 

"He  is  the  son  of  General  Richard  Shackelford 
of  our  army." 

"Impossible!"  cried  both  Judge  Chambers  and 
Mr.  Norton  in  the  same  breath. 

"True,  nevertheless.  Even  if  I  had  caught  the 
fellow  at  Andersonville,  a  strong  influence  would 
have  been  brought  to  save  his  neck;  but  the  murder 
of  Lieutenant  Brown  has  done  one  thing — no  influ- 
ence will  now  save  him,  if  caught." 

"I  should  think  not;  we  will  give  him  a  short 
shrift,  and  not  trouble  the  military,  if  we  lay  hands 
on  him,"  Mr.  Norton  exclaimed;  and  for  emphasis 
he  brought  his  cane  down  with  such  force  as  to 
break  it. 

"Was  Lieutenant  Brown  armed?"  suddenly 
asked  Judge  Chambers. 

"Yes;   he  had  a  fine  revolver." 

"Then  if  this  Shackelford  murdered  him,  he  has 
his  revolver,  and  from  your  account  he  will  be 
a  dangerous  man  to  attack." 

This  phase  of  the  question  seemed  to  disconcert 


384  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

the  major  for  a  moment;  then  he  answered,  "If  he 
were  thrice  armed,  no  brave  man  would  hesitate 
a  moment  to  capture  him  if  opportunity  offered." 

Tea  was  now  announced,  and  for  the  first  time 
Major  Kenyon  became  aware  that  Miss  de  Courtney 
was  present.  He  at  once  became  all  attention,  and 
strove  to  make  himself  agreeable. 

The  murder  of  Lieutenant  Brown,  and  the  fugi- 
tive Yankee  prisoners,  were  almost  the  sole  topics 
of  conversation.  Judge  Chambers  told  how  his 
son,  with  three  soldiers,  had  met  a  solitary  Federal 
soldier  on  Lookout  Mountain,  and  how  in  a  twink- 
ling three  of  them  had  been  shot  down. 

"Gordon  says,"  continued  the  judge,  "that  the 
Yankee  was  riding  one  of  the  finest  horses  he  ever 
saw,  and  it  was  the  horse  he  was  after  when  he  was 
shot." 

"Captain  Chambers  is  riding  that  same  horse 
now,"  said  the  major;  and  in  spite  of  himself 
a  dark  frown  passed  over  his  face,  but  he  wisely 
kept  to  himself  the  full  particulars.  Instead,  he 
told  how  for  all  day  he  had  been  searching  for 
a  clue  to  the  fugitives,  but  had  not  been  able  to 
find  the  slightest.  "Yet,"  he  added,  "I  am  almost 
certain  they  came  this  way,  and  for  aught  I 
know  may  be  lurking  in  this  vicinity  at  this  very 
moment." 

Just  then  a  mulatto  house-servant  who  was  wait- 
ing on  the  table,  and  who  had  been  listening  to  the 
conversation  with  open  mouth,  thinking  to  curry 
favor  with  her  master,  said : 


FAITHFUL    UNTO  DEATH.  285 

"Massa,  Jane,  one  ob  de  field  hands  told  me 
a  strange  nigger  hab  bin  hangin'  round  fo'  fee  fo' 
days,  an'  dat  nigger  George  hab  bin  feedin'  him." 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Norton  was  dumb  with  sur- 
prise, and  then  he  thundered:  "Why  didn't  you 
tell  me  this  before?  I  will  have  you  stripped  and 
flogged  like  a  common  nigger,  and  then  sent  to  the 
fields." 

The  girl  threw  herself  on  her  knees  before  her 
master,  crying:  "Oh,  massa,  massa!  don't  flog  me, 
don't  send  me  to  de  fields.  I  was  'fraid  to  tell; 
de  field  niggers  kill  me,  suah." 

"Don't  fool  with  the  girl,"  broke  in  Major  Ken- 
yon;   "this  nigger  George  is  the  one  we  want." 

George  was  sent  for,  and  he  came  in  with  fear 
and  trembling. 

"George,"  demanded  Mr.  Norton,  "have  you 
been  feeding  a  runaway  nigger?" 

George's  black  skin  turned  the  color  of  clay, 
and  he  tried  to  speak,  but  his  voice  died  away  in 
a  gurgle. 

"Tell  the  truth,  you  black  rascal,"  thundered 
his  master,  "or  I  will  have  you  skinned  alive. 
Here,  Kelly  (to  his  overseer),  take  this  fellow  out, 
trice  him  up,  and  make  his  back  smoke." 

Mr.  Norton  was  naturally  a  kind  master,  but 
now  he  was  greatly  excited,  and  his  anger  was 
terrible. 

"Don't,  massa,  don't!"  shrieked  George,  grovel- 
ing in  terror  at  Mr.  Norton's  feet;  "I  tell  de  truth, 
de  whole  truth.      Befo'  de  Lawd  I  will." 


286  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Out  with  it,  then,  quick!" 

"I  bin  feedin'  a  strange  nigger,  but  he  no  run- 
away nigger;  he  goin'  back  to  his  massa.  He  bin 
a-workin'  on  de  stockade  at  Andersonville,  an'  de 
solgers  'buse  him;  so  he  runnin'  back  to  his  ole 
massa." 

"George,  how  long  have  you  been  feeding  this 
strange  nigger?" 

"Fo'  days,  massa." 

"Yet  you  say  he  is  on  his  way  back  to  his  mas- 
ter. Why  has  he  skulked  around  here  for  four 
days?      Speak  quick,  you  rascal." 

"He  say,  he  say  thar  is  'nother  nigger  with 
him,  sick,  can't  trabble." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Major  Kenyon,  "that  ex- 
plains it  all.  This  strange  nigger  says  he  is  from 
Andersonville.  No  doubt  he  is  with  those  escaped 
Yankees.      Find  him  and  we  shall  find  them." 

"I  reckon  you  are  right,  Major,"  answered  Mr. 
Norton.  "George,  where  is  this  strange  nigger 
hiding?" 

"Don't  know  eggsaclly,  massa.  So'th  in  de 
woods  somewhar. " 

"You  rascal,  you  are  lying!" 

"Fo'  de  Lawd,  no,  massa.  He  would  nebber 
tell  me.      Say  I  bettah  not  know." 

"Let  us  lose  no  time,"  cried  Major  Kenyon; 
"let  us  search  the  woods  to  the  south." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Mr.  Norton.  "Kelly, 
you  lock  George  in  the  dungeon;  I  will  attend  to 
his   case   afterwards.       Then    loose    the    dogs;     we 


FAITHFUL    UNTO  DEATH.  287 

must  get  on  the  track  of  these  murderers  as  soon 
as  possible." 

By  this  time  Major  Kenyon  had  his  men 
mounted  and  all  ready,  and  in  an  incredibly  short 
time  the  whole  party  were  going  in  the  direction 
pointed  out  by  George. 

It  was  now  after  nightfall,  but  it  was  bright  star- 
light, and  the  party  had  proceeded  barely  half 
a  mile  when  the  dogs  raised  a  cry  and  started  off 
at  full  speed.  The  horsemen  with  a  shout  of  tri- 
umph followed  them,  and  had  not  ridden  far  when 
they  came  on  the  dogs  battling  with  a  huge  negro. 
They  called  on  him  to  surrender,  but  instead  he 
hurled  at  the  nearest  horseman  a  stone  which  he  had 
in  his  hand  to  beat  off  the  dogs,  knocking  the  rider 
from  his  horse.      Then  he  turned  and  ran. 

A  half  a  dozen  revolvers  blazed,  and  the  negro 
fell.  He  was  carried  back  to  the  plantation  and 
placed  on  the  floor  of  the  porch.  The  wounded 
negro  was  our  friend  Joe,  and  it  was  plain  to  be  seen 
he  had  but  a  few  moments  to  live. 

"Now,  you  black  rascal,"  exclaimed  Major  Ken- 
yon, "tell  us  what  you  know,  quick!  or  I  will  cut 
your  black  heart  out." 

Joe  slowly  opened  his  eyes,  already  glazing  in 
death.  Without  paying  any  attention  to  the  threat, 
he  gasped : 

"I  Massa  Willum  Wood  nigger;  Massa  Wood 
libs  near  Milledgeville.  He  let  me  to  the  sogers  at 
Andersonville.  Da  'buse  Joe,  da  whip  him,  so 
I   run   away  to   git   back  to  Massa  Wood;   he  good 


288  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

massa.  Won't  yo'  tell  him  an'  Susan,  dat  my  wife, 
what  hab  becum  ob  ole  Joe?" 

"Tell  me  who  were  with  you  in  the  woods,  or 
I  will  burn  your  eyes  out,"  cried  Major  Kenyon, 
in  fury. 

Here  a  soft  hand  was  laid  on  the  major's  shoul- 
der, and  a  tender  voice  trembling  with  indignation 
said:  "Major  Kenyon,  you  forget  yourself.  Don't 
you  see  the  man  is  dying?"  and  before  he  could 
interpose,  Miss  de  Courtney  knelt  by  the  side  of 
the  negro,  and  bending  over  him,  whispered: 
"What  is  it,  Joe?  What  message  do  you  want  to 
send  to  your  wife?" 

A  great  joy  shone  in  the  dying  eyes  of  the  slave. 
"God  bless  yo',  missy!"  he  gasped;  "tell  Susan 
and  de  chillens  dat  Joe  lubbed  dem  to  the  end." 

By  this  time  Major  Kenyon  had  recovered  from 
his  surprise.  "Miss  de  Courtney, "  he  gently  said, 
"forgive  me,  but  this  is  no  place  for  you.  Don't 
you  see  it  is  much  more  important  that  the  perpe- 
trators of  a  foul  murder  be  caught  than  that  the 
message  of  a  dying  nigger  to  his  wench  be  received? 
This  nigger  knows  something;  he  must  speak  before 
he  dies." 

Miss  de  Courtney's  face  flamed,  but  she  arose, 
and  without  a  word  withdrew,  followed  by  the  other 
ladies  of  the  household. 

' '  Now, ' '  fiercely  demanded  Kenyon  of  Joe,  "  who 
were  with  you?  Yankees?  Tell  quick;  I  have  the 
irons  heating." 

"Nobuddy — wid — Joe.      No — Yankees." 


FAITHFUL    UNTO   DEATH.  2S9 

"You  lie!  I  will  have — "  But  Major  Kenyon 
suddenly  stopped.  Joe  was  beyond  his  reach;  he 
was  dead,  and  faithful  to  the  last. 

Major  Kenyon  uttered  an  angry  oath.  "The 
devil  has  cheated  us,"  he  exclaimed;  "but  we  will 
find  them.      To  your  horses,  men." 

Again  the  whole  party  with  the  dogs  set  out. 
The  rude  hut  which  Joe  had  built  for  Smith  was 
soon  found,  but  it  was  empty.  The  trail  was  taken 
up  and  readily  followed  to  the  creek,  but  there  it 
was  lost.  As  the  trail,  when  lost,  led  eastward, 
the  pursuers  turned  up  the  creek  instead  of  going 
down.  After  beating  through  the  woods  until  mid- 
night to  locate  the  trail,  they  returned  to  Mr.  Nor- 
ton's, angry  and  discouraged,  to  await  the  light  of 
day. 

The  next  morning  they  searched  down  the  creek, 
and  discovered  Fred's  footsteps  which  he  had  made 
near  its  mouth. 

' '  They  have  come  this  way, ' '  said  Major  Kenyon. 
"No  doubt  they  have  crossed  the  river  to  get  into 
the  thick  woods  on  the  other  side"  ;  and  he  ordered 
the  whole  party  to  cross  the  river  and  to  search  the 
country  thoroughly.  But  he  made  it  his  business 
to  ride  to  Judge  Chambers's;  he  was  burning  to 
see  Miss  de  Courtney. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

LUCILLE  DE  COURTNEY. 

WHEN  Joe  learned  that  his  sick  charge  was  to 
accompany  Fred  and  Darling  in  their  flight, 
he  announced  his  intention  "ob  goin'  norf  wid 
dem,"  instead  of  going  back  to  his  old  master. 
Realizing  what  a  valuable  ally  he  would  make,  Fred 
and  Darling  gave  their  consent,  to  the  great  joy  of 
the  old  scout. 

As  they  were  not  to  start  until  after  dark,  Joe 
asked  permission  to  visit  his  friends  on  the  planta- 
tion once  more,  saying:  "George  hab  promised  me 
sum  mo'  good  things  fo'  Massa  Smith.  Dar  will 
be  no  danger;  da  will  be  waitin'  fo'  me."  So  Fred 
gave  his  consent. 

As  soon  as  it  began  to  grow  dark,  Joe  started. 
His  last  words  were,  "Be  back  in  half  hour." 

For  some  reason  Fred  felt  a  premonition  of  dan- 
ger, and  concluded  to  follow  Joe  as  near  to  the  cabins 
of  the  slaves  as  he  dared.  But  he  had  not  gone  far 
when  he  was  startled  by  the  noise  and  uproar  occa- 
sioned by  the  discovery  of  Joe.  He  heard  the  fierce 
bay  of  the  hounds,  the  shouts  of  the  men,  and  then 
the  sharp  volley.      He  knew  it  was  all  over  with  Joe. 

Running  back  at  full  speed,  in  a  few  words  he 
290 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNEY.  291 

told  his  companions  what  had  happened,  and  said 
their  safety  lay  only  in  instant  flight. 

' '  There  is  no  hope  for  Joe, ' '  he  exclaimed  ;  ' '  that 
volley  finished  him.  Poor  fellow!  He  has  lost  his 
life,  but  in  so  doing  may  have  saved  ours.  That 
party  had  in  some  way  discovered  we  were  here, 
and  had  set  out  to  capture  us,  when  they  unexpect- 
edly ran  onto  Joe.  It  may  give  us  a  little  time  to 
escape." 

Hastily  gathering  what  food  they  had,  they  took 
to  flight.  The  news  seemed  to  put  almost  super- 
natural strength  into  the  old  scout,  and  he  started 
out  apparently  as  strong  as  Fred  or  Darling. 

"To  the  south,"  said  Fred,  "until  we  reach  the 
creek,  and  then  we  will  wade  down  that.  I  would 
rather  keep  near  the  river;  we  may  save  ourselves 
some  time  by  crossing  it.  Before  entering  the 
creek,  let  us  go  a  short  way  up  the  bank,  so  as  to 
create  the  impression  that  our  course  is  eastward." 

This  they  did,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  led  Major 
Kenyon  and  his  party  to  search  the  country  first  to 
the  east.  This  proved  of  great  benefit  to  the  fugi- 
tives, and  gave  them  a  brief  respite.  They  waded 
down  the  creek,  crossing  the  road  where  they  had 
abandoned  the  horse  the  night  before.  Soon  the 
water  deepened,  and  they  knew  they  must  be  ap- 
proaching the  river. 

To  Fred's  great  joy  he  discovered  a  small  stream 
flowing  down  from  the  north.  "This  is  fortunate," 
he  exclaimed;  "we  will  follow  up  this  stream.  The 
dogs  will  have  a  hard  time  following  our  trail  this 


292  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

time.  But  rest  here  a  few  moments,  boys;  I  want 
to  reconnoiter  down  the  creek  a  little,  and  see  how 
far  it  is  to  the  river." 

As  the  water  was  quite  deep,  he  walked  in  the 
edge  of  the  stream,  and  seemed  to  be  quite  indiffer- 
ent when  he  stepped  upon  the  bank.  He  did  not 
go  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  he  came  to 
the  river,  and  around  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  he 
made  quite  a  number  of  tracks,  all  leading  into  the 
river. 

"Now,  if  this  don't  fool  them  and  make  them 
think  we  have  crossed  the  river,  I'm  mistaken,"  he 
laughed  to  himself. 

On  his  way  back  he  was  very  careful  to  keep  in 
the  water,  so  as  not  to  leave  a  single  backward 
track.  He  found  Darling  and  Smith  growing  a  little 
anxious  over  his  prolonged  absence,  but  when  he 
told  them  what  he  had  done  they  at  once  saw  the 
wisdom  of  it. 

The  little  party  now  began  to  make  their  way  up 
the  stream.  Smith,  who  had  steadily  refused  assist- 
ance, affirming  that  he  was  keeping  up  easily,  sud- 
denly stumbled  and  fell.  The  halt,  and  standing 
in  the  water  while  Fred  was  absent,  had  chilled 
him,  and  his  unnatural  strength  had  given  way. 
He  tried  to  rise,  but  sank  back  in  a  faint.  The 
body  refused  to  obey  the  iron  will  any  longer. 
Tenderly  raising  him  in  his  arms,  Fred  pressed  on. 

"He  is  no  heavier  than  a  child,"  he  said  to 
Darling;  "nothing  but  skin  and  bone." 

They  slowly  made  their  way  up  the  stream,  tak- 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNET.  293 

ing  turns  in  carrying  Smith,  who,  after  he  had 
recovered  consciousness,  proved  a  very  unwilling 
burden.  He  was  so  weak,  however,  he  could  resist 
but  feebly.  The  stream  soon  became  so  small  they 
left  it,  and  after  a  march  of  some  five  miles  they 
found  themselves  utterly  exhausted  and  forced  to 
halt. 

Finding  a  little  glade  not  far  from  the  bank  of 
the  river,  and  securely  protected  from  observation 
by  a  thicket  of  brush,  they  decided  to  camp. 
Little  did  Fred  think  when  they  halted  that  they 
were  on  the  plantation  of  Judge  Chambers,  the 
father  of  Captain  Chambers.  Both  Fred  and  Dar- 
ling decided  that  if  not  compelled  to  leave,  they 
would  stay  at  this  place  until  Smith  died,  for  it 
was  evident  the  old  scout  could  not  live  more  than 
two  or  three  days  longer,  and  it  would  be  cruel  to 
try  to  move  him,  and  desert  him  they  would  not. 

The  day  passed  without  incident  until  late  in  the 
afternoon,  when  Fred,  leaving  Smith  in  the  care  of 
Darling,  carefully  made  his  way  to  the  edge  of  the 
woods  to  look  out  over  the  country.  Nearly  two 
miles  away  he  could  see  a  fine  old-fashioned  planta- 
tion-house, and  in  the  rear  a  little  village  of  slave- 
cabins.  Fields  of  corn  and  cotton  stretched  away 
for  miles,  for  Judge  Chambers  owned  a  plantation 
of  five  thousand  acres.  Slaves  were  working  in  the 
fields,  and  the  whole  scene  was  one  of  peace  and 
plenty.  The  valley  of  the  Flint  had  never  felt  the 
blighting  touch  of  war. 

Long  did  Fred  gaze  on  the  beautiful  landscape. 


294  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

and  thoughts  of  his  Kentucky  home  came  surging 
to  his  mind.  Would  he  ever  see  it  again?  God 
only  knew.  A  bridle-path  ran  near  him,  winding 
through  the  woods  toward  the  river.  He  followed 
it,  and  had  just  reached  the  bank  of  the  stream 
when  he  heard  the  poundings  of  a  horse's  hoofs 
coming  down  the  bridle-path.  Hastily  drawing  his 
revolver,  he  dodged  into  the  bushes  on  one  side  of 
the  path. 

Then  the  shrill  screams  of  a  woman  smote  his 
ears.  A  moment  more  and  Fred  was  horrified  to 
see  a  horse  coming  down  the  path  at  a  terrific  rate 
of  speed.  The  rider,  a  young  woman,  seemed  to 
have  lost  control  of  her  mount.  The  reins  hung 
loose  in  her  nerveless  hands,  and  she  swayed  to  and 
fro  as  if  about  to  lose  her  seat. 

Straight  as  an  arrow  from  the  bow  the  horse 
made  for  the  river.  The  bank  of  the  stream  was 
here  high,  and  the  current  swept  against  it  with 
tremendous  force,  boiling  and  foaming,  as  though 
in  rage  at  being  turned  aside.  A  plunge  over  that 
bank,  and  nothing  could  save  horse  or  rider. 

Fred  saw  it  all  at  a  glance,  yet  to  attempt  a  res- 
cue might  mean  capture  and  death.  But  the  danger 
of  the  lady  appealed  to  everything  chivalric  in  his 
nature.  He  would  save  her,  even  if  it  meant  death 
to  him.  She  had  ceased  to  scream,  and  as  the 
horse  neared  the  brink  and  the  dark  waters  of  the 
river  could  be  seen  leaping  and  foaming  below,  Fred 
thought  he  saw  her  glance  upward  and  her  lips 
move  as  though  in  prayer. 


THERE    CAME    THE    SHARP    CRACK    OF    A    REVOLVER. 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNEY.  295 

One  bound  more  and  the  horse  would  be  over. 
There  came  the  sharp  crack  of  a  revolver,  and  the 
horse  fell  dead  with  a  bullet  through  his  brain,  his 
head  hanging  over  the  very  brink.  The  fall  of  the 
horse  threw  his  rider  on  the  very  edge  of  the  bank, 
and  Fred  had  just  time  to  rush  forward  and  drag 
the  unconscious  form  of  the  lady  back,  when  the 
crumbling  bank  gave  way,  and  the  body  of  the 
horse  rolled  into  the  water  below. 

Fred  bore  the  unconscious  rider  back  to  a 
little  spring  which  bubbled  forth  from  under  the 
roots  of  a  stalwart  pine,  and  laying  her  gently 
on  the  ground,  commenced  to  bathe  her  face. 
He  now  saw  that  she  was  young,  not  more  than 
eighteen  or  nineteen,  and  wondrously  fair.  So 
long  did  she  remain  in  a  swoon  that  Fred  began 
to  fear  that  she  was  dead ;  but  at  length  her  eyelids 
began  to  tremble,  she  gave  a  little  sigh,  and  the 
eyes  slowly  opened. 

A  look  of  wonderment  came  over  her  face  as  she 
saw  Fred  bending  over  her.  She  attempted  to  rise, 
but  sank  back. 

"Where  am  I?"  she  asked,  faintly.  "What  has 
happened?" 

"You  are  safe,  lady,  safe,"  replied  Fred. 

"Oh,  I  remember  now!"  And  a  shudder  swept 
over  her.  "Selim  ran  away;  he  was  about  to 
plunge  into  the  river.  I  gave  myself  up  for  lost. 
I — I  remember  nothing  more. ' '  Here  she  attempted 
to  rise  again,  and  giving  her  his  hand,  Fred  gently 
assisted  her  to  her  feet. 


296  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  anxiously  asked  Fred,  as  she 
gazed  around  her  as  if  still  dazed. 

"Hurt?  Why,  did  Selim  throw  me?  Where  is 
Selim?" 

"Dead  and  in  the  river,  where  I  thank  God  you 
are  not,"  reverently  answered  Fred. 

"You    saved    me,  then,"  she  cried;  "you  saved 


me ! 


I'  • 


"Yes,  madam;  I  shot  your  horse  as  he  was 
about  to  plunge  into  the  river,  and  just  had  time 
to  snatch  you  away  when  the  bank  crumbled. 
I  bore  you  back  unconscious  to  this  little  spring, 
where  I  have  had  the  happiness  to  see  you  revive, 
and  trust  you  have  had  no  serious  injury." 

"Oh,  how  can  I  ever  repay  you?  Come  and  let 
my  uncle  and  aunt  thank  you." 

"Impossible!"  grimly  replied  Fred.  "Do 
I  look  as  if  I  should  be  a  welcome  guest  in  any 
respectable  household?" 

For  the  first  time  she  regarded  him  closely. 
A  look  of  amazement  and  horror  swept  over  her 
face,  and  she  recoiled  as  from  a  viper. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  whispered,  with  white  lips. 
"You  are  not  one  of  the  escaped  Yankees  the  whole 
country  is  looking  for,  are  you?" 

"I  am  afraid  I  am." 

"Oh,  tell  me  you  are  not,  tell  me  you  are  not!" 
And  she  wrung  her  hands  in  her  distress,  and  leaned 
forward  as  if  pleading  for  an  affirmative  answer. 

"I    am    a    Union   soldier,  and   am  escaping  from 
Andersonville  "  was  Fred's  answer. 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNET.  297 

' '  Then — then  you  murdered  Lieutenant  Brown. 
And  again  that  look  of  horror  came  over  her  face. 
"Why  did  you  save  me?"  she  exclaimed,  passion- 
ately; "why  did  you  touch  me  with  your  bloody 
hands?"  and  shuddering,  she  shrank  farther  from 
him. 

If  a  sword-thrust  had  pierced  his  body,  it  would 
not  have  given  him  keener  pain  than  these  words. 
For  a  moment  he  stood  as  pale  as  his  accuser; 
then  the  hot  blood  rushed  to  his  face,  and  he 
cried : 

"For  God's  sake,  hear  me  before  you  condemn 
me !  I  was  a  prisoner  in  Andersonville,  where  men 
starve,  rot  alive,  die  by  inches.  I  escaped ;  I  swore 
that  I  would  never  be  taken  alive.  A  Confederate 
officer  rode  on  me,  his  revolver  was  at  my  head. 
My  comrade  slew  him,  and  saved  my  life.  It  was 
not  murder;   it  was  self-defense." 

"And  yet  you  killed  him?"  she  said,  with  the 
same  look  of  horror  on  her  face. 

"Madam,"  Fred  cried,  in  desperation,  "suppose 
you  had  a  father,  a  brother,  in  some  loathsome 
Northern  prison,  starving,  dying,  and  he  should 
escape.  Only  a  Northern  soldier  stood  between  him 
and  life  and  liberty.  Would  you  call  him  a  mur- 
derer and  turn  from  him  in  horror  if  he  struck  the 
blow  that  made  him  free?" 

1 '  No,  no ;  I  would  curse  him  if  he  did  not  strike. 
He  would  not  be  a  De  Courtney  if  he  did  not." 

"Yet  you  condemn  me  because  I  struck,  you 
shrink  from  me  as  from  a  vile  criminal.      Go  and 


2gS  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

tell  Major  Kenyon  I  am  here,  go  and  tell  him  that 
the  quarry  he  seeks  is  trapped.  Place  the  halter 
around  my  neck,  if  you  will,  I  will  not  restrain  you; 
but  remember,  you  deliver  to  death  one  who  has 
saved  your  life." 

She  looked  at  him  with  wondering  eyes;  then 
a  deep  blush,  as  of  shame,  swept  over  her  face. 
It  receded,  leaving  her  pale  and  trembling  in  every 
limb. 

"Don't,"  she  cried,  "don't  judge  me  so  cruelly. 
But  for  you  I  should  now  be  lying  in  that  slimy 
river.  You  saved  my  life.  I  cannot,  I  will  not, 
betray  the  one  who  saved  me.  But  go,  go;  do  not 
let  this  secret  lie  upon  my  soul." 

"You  have  not  yet  told  me  whom  I  have  res- 
cued.    Will  you  not  tell  me  that,  if  I  must  go?" 

"What  can  it  matter?  But  I  am  Lucille  de 
Courtney,  and  you  are — are — " 

"Captain  Frederic  Shackelford,"  replied  Fred, 
with  a  bow. 

"I  knew  it.  You  are  the  one  that  Major  Ken- 
yon is  after.  For  some  reason  he  seems  to  hate 
you." 

Just  then  the  sound  of  hoofs  came  to  their  ears. 

"Oh,  run,  run!"  cried  the  girl;  "they  are  seek- 
ing me,  they  will  see  you.  Run,  for  my  sake  as 
well  as  your  own.  It  would  kill  me  to  deliver  you 
over  to  them." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Fred,  simply.  "Farewell"; 
and  taking  her  hand,  he  pressed  the  dainty  fingers 
to  his  lips,  and  was  gone. 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNEY.  299 

A  moment  later  Judge  Chambers  and  Major 
Kenyon  came  galloping  up. 

"Thank  God!  safe,  safe!"  cried  the  judge, 
springing  from  his  horse  and  clasping  the  girl  to  his 
breast.  "Lucille,  we  were  told  your  horse  had  run 
away,  and  that  he  was  headed  straight  for  the  river. 

"So  he  did,"  she  replied,  with  a  hysterical  little 
laugh. 

"And  where  is  Selim?" 

"In  the  river,"  she  replied,  with  a  shudder. 

"Lucille,  you  act  strange;  you  are  hurt — where? 
where?     Tell  me  all  about  it,  child." 

"I  do  not  think  that  I  am  injured,  uncle,  only 
badly  frightened  and  nervous.  Oh,  it  was  frightful ! 
Selim  ran  away  with  me,  and  headed  straight  for 
the  river.  The  last  I  remember  was  the  dark  water 
right  ahead  of  me.  And  then  I  must  have  jumped, 
or  been  thrown.  I  must  have  been  stunned  or 
dazed,  for  when  I  came  fully  to  myself  I  was  here 
by  the  little  spring.  Oh,  uncle,  take  me  home! 
I  feel  faint." 

"Major,"  shouted  the  judge,  "ride  for  your  life 
to  the  house  for  a  carriage,  and  have  Cato  go  for 
a  surgeon;  let  him  ride  the  fleetest  horse.  She  is 
more  hurt  than  she  thinks." 

Without  a  word,  the  major  was  off.  To  do  him 
justice,  he  loved  Lucille  as  well  as  he  could  love 
any  being  except  himself,  and  he  was  greatly 
alarmed  lest  she  had  been  severely  injured.  His 
message  created  consternation  in  the  household. 
Dispatching  Cato  for  the  surgeon,  Major  Kenyon 


300  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

accompanied  the  carriage  back.  He  found  Miss  de 
Courtney  to  all  appearances  much  better,  and  to 
his  eager  inquiries  she  declared  that  she  was  feeling 
quite  well,  that  it  was  only  the  fright  and  the  shock 
of  being  thrown  that  had  overcome  her;  that  she 
was  now  feeling  as  well  as  usual. 

"You  do  not  know  what  happiness  it  brings  me 
to  hear  you  say  this,  Lucille,"  he  replied,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Isn't  it  strange,"  spoke  up  the  judge,  "that 
Lucille  has  not  the  slightest  remembrance  how  she 
came  here  by  the  spring?" 

Miss  de  Courtney  seemed  strangely  agitated  by 
what  her  uncle  said,  but  the  major  quietly  answered: 
"It  is  not  strange;  she  was  stunned  by  the  fall, 
and  wandered  as  far  as  the  spring  before  she  fully 
recovered  consciousness." 

"Then  what  a  providence  it  was  she  turned  from 
the  river  instead  of  toward  it,"  said  the  judge. 

The  major  happened  to  look  down  at  the  little 
spring,  and  he  saw  something  that  startled  him. 
There  imprinted  in  the  soft  margins  were  the  tracks 
of  a  man,  and  they  were  too  small  to  have  been 
made  by  the  judge.  A  horrible  suspicion  took 
possession  of  him.  By  this  time  Miss  de  Courtney 
had  been  placed  in  the  carriage,  and  was  being 
driven  away. 

Major  Kenyon  remained  behind,  and  as  soon  as 
the  coast  was  clear  carefully  examined  the  ground. 
Yes,  there  were  the  tracks,  plain  and  unmistakable. 
He   followed   them   to   the   river.     There  was  the 


LUCILLE  DE    COURTNET.  30 1 

crumbling  bank,  and  there  in  the  soft  earth  were 
the  same  tracks.  Evidently  some  one  had  rescued 
Miss  de  Courtney.  Who?  And  why  was  she  try- 
ing to  keep  it  a  secret? 

"Great  heavens!"  he  suddenly  ejaculated,  and 
he  fairly  staggered  at  the  thought.  "I  have  seen 
those  tracks  before.  I  saw  them  where  poor  Brown 
was  killed.  I  saw  them  around  the  rude  shelter  in 
the  woods  at  the  Norton  place.  It  was  that  Yan- 
kee, Shackelford,  that  rescued  her,  and  she  is  con- 
cealing the  fact.  I  will  have  him  now.  But  stop ! 
She  is  grateful ;  she  will  not  want  to  see  the  man 
hanged  that  has  saved  her  life.  It  may  give  me  a 
hold  on  her.  Captain  Shackelford,  you  may  go  if 
your  going  will  give  me  a  hold  on  Lucille  de  Court- 
ney." 

Filled  with  the  idea,  he  rode  back  to  the  house. 
On  her  arrival  Miss  de  Courtney  was  nearly  smoth- 
ered by  the  embraces  and  kisses  of  the  ladies. 
And  good  Mrs.  Chambers  insisted  that  she  should 
at  once  go  to  bed;  but  Lucille  laughingly  replied, 
saying  that  she  was  all  right,  and  that  she  had 
already  nearly  recovered  from  the  ill  effects  of  her 
adventure.  The  doctor  soon  made  his  appearance, 
and  really  looked  disappointed  when  he  found  Miss 
de  Courtney  did  not  need  his  professional  serv- 
ices. But  to  be  sure,  he  made  her  go  through 
a  gymnastic  exercise,  to  prove  that  no  bones  were 
broken.  Then  with  a  grave  face  he  asked  her  if 
she  did  not  feel  any  pain;  she  might  be  injured 
internally.      Just  then  dinner  was  announced. 


302  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

''Doctor,"  gayly  said  Miss  de  Courtney,  "come 
in  and  dine  with  us,  and  I  will  at  least  show  you 
that  I  am  still  capable  of  taking  my  usual  allowance 
of  food." 

Of  course,  during  the  meal  the  chief  topic  of 
conversation  was  Miss  de  Courtney's  adventure. 
Major  Kenyon  watched  her  closely,  and  noticed 
that  every  time  mention  was  made  of  how  she  got 
back  to  the  spring  a  startled  look  would  come  into 
her  face,  and  she  answered  all  questions  by  saying 
she  had  no  recollection  on  the  subject.  From  her 
manner  Major  Kenyon  became  fully  convinced  that 
he  was  correct  in  his  surmises.  He  resolved  to 
have  at  once  an  interview  with  Miss  de  Courtney, 
tell  her  his  suspicion,  and  applaud  her  goodness  of 
heart  in  trying  to  shield  the  man  who  had  saved 
her  life.     In  doing  this  he  hoped  to  win  her  gratitude. 

But  the  excitement  of  the  day  was  not  over. 
Hardly  had  the  meal  been  finished  when  a  courier 
dashed  up  to  the  door,  inquired  for  Major  Kenyon, 
and  handed  him  a  dispatch.  Hastily  tearing  it 
open,  he  glanced  at  it,  gave  a  groan,  and  exclaimed: 

"Great  heavens!     Atlanta  has  fallen!" 

"Impossible!"  cried  Judge  Chambers. 

"Alas!  it  is  too  true,"  replied  the  courier. 
"For  aught  I  know,  Sherman's  cannon  may  be 
thundering  by  this  time  before  Macon." 

Consternation  was  depicted  in  every  countenance. 

"Oh,  God!  oh,  God!"  groaned  the  judge,  as  he 
strode  up  and  down  the  veranda  like  a  maniac; 
"the  Confederacy  is  doomed,  doomed!" 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNET.  303 

"Not  so  bad  as  that,"  cried  Major  Kenyon, 
with  compressed  lips.  "Atlanta  has  fallen,  but  the 
army  still  survives.  The  hope  of  the  South  is  in 
the  strong  arms  and  brave  hearts  of  her  sons;  they 
will  never  surrender." 

The  man  really  looked  inspired  as  he  uttered 
these  words.  For  the  first  time  Miss  de  Courtney 
looked  upon  him  with  kindly  eyes. 

Giving  him  her  hand,  she  said:  "Major  Kenyon, 
I  thank  you  for  your  words  of  encouragement. 
The  South  can  never  be  conquered  as  long  as  it  is 
defended  by  soldiers  like  you." 

The  major's  heart  gave  a  great  bound.  Now 
was  his  time.  "Miss  de  Courtney,"  he  answered, 
bowing,  "your  words  are  too  gracious  when  applied 
to  me  alone;  they  belong  to  the  whole  army.  This 
dispatch  summons  me  to  Macon;  the  order  is 
imperative;  but  before  I  go,  will  you  not  grant  me 
a  private  interview?  I  have  much  that  I  would  say 
to  you." 

Miss  de  Courtney  hesitated,  paled,  and  then 
simply  said:  "Yes,  Major;   it  is  your  due." 

No  sooner  were  they  alone  than  Major  Kenyon 
attempted  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  drew  it  back, 
and  said:  "You  will  please  be  seated;  I  will  then 
hear  what  you  have  to  say." 

The  major's  brow  darkened.  "Miss  de  Court- 
ney, Lucille — may  I  not  call  you  Lucille?"  he 
exclaimed,  passionately;  "why  do  you  act  so  coldly? 
Why  do  you  treat  me  as  a  mere  acquaintance?  Is 
it  possible  you  have  ceased  to  love  me?     Have  you 


304  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

forgotten  those  old  days?  I  have  not  forgotten 
them.  The  love  that  I  professed  years  ago,  when 
you  were  a  mere  child,  has  grown  stronger  with  the 
flight  of  time.  It  has  been  my  inspiration,  my 
very  life,  through  all  the  scenes  of  danger  I  have 
passed.  Lucille,  are  we  not  as  good  as  engaged? 
Will  you  now  cast  me  off,  a  heartbroken  and  desper- 
ate man?" 

Miss  de  Courtney  had  listened  to  Major  Kenyon 
with  downcast  eyes,  and  was  visibly  agitated.  She 
now  raised  her  pure  face,  and  looking  at  him  steadily, 
said:  "Major  Kenyon,  if  by  a  single  act  of  mine 
I  have  caused  you  pain,  I  sincerely  ask  your  pardon. 
It  is  true  that  when  I  was  a  mere  child  you  asked 
my  hand  in  marriage.  I  was  flattered  by  your 
attention.  You  were  a  man  of  the  world,  rich, 
handsome,  and  much  sought  after.  In  my  foolish 
heart  I  thought  I  loved  you,  and  told  you  so;  but 
I  told  you  I  should  be  guided  by  my  father's 
wishes.  He  absolutely  forbade  an  engagement,  or 
anything  that  would  savor  of  a  promise,  but  said 
that  when  I  was  of  sufficient  age,  when  the  war  was 
over,  if  we  were  both  still  of  the  same  mind,  he 
would  not  object.  We  both  acquiesced  in  the  deci- 
sion. There  was  no  promise,  nothing  binding  be- 
tween us.  My  letters  for  the  past  two  years  must 
have  told  you  that  even  if  I  ever  loved  you, 
I  had  ceased  to  do  so.  I  could  not  write  to  you 
and  tell  you  that  I  wished  to  break  our  engagement, 
for  no  engagement  ever  existed.  Major  Kenyon, 
I  admire  you  as  a  brave  soldier,  but  I  can  never  be 


LUCILLE  DE  COURTNET.  305 

your  wife.  We  are  too  different;  the  marriage 
would  make  us  both  unhappy.  Let  us  be  friends; 
we  can  never  be  anything  more." 

Never  did  Lucille  de  Courtney  look  more  beauti- 
ful than  when  she  said  this.  Major  Kenyon  gazed, 
saw  what  he  was  about  to  lose,  and  love  struggled 
against  every  evil  passion  of  his  nature  for  mastery. 
Controlling  himself  by  a  powerful  effort,  he  said  in 
a  faltering  voice:  "Lucille,  is  it  thus  you  cast  me 
off,  without  one  thought  of  the  great  love  I  bear 
you  ?     Is  it  possible  some  one  has  come  between  us  ?' ' 

"There  is  no  one,"  she  answered. 

"Then  there  may  be  hope?"  he  replied,  eagerly. 

"Do  not  deceive  yourself,  Major  Kenyon.  My 
answer  is  final." 

He  saw  that  he  must  play  his  last  card,  and  that 
it  must  be  played  adroitly.  ' '  Lucille, ' '  he  exclaimed, 
his  voice  quivering  with  pathos,  "you  were  near 
death  this  evening." 

"Yes,"  she  whispered,  shuddering. 

"And  you  have  no  recollection  how  you  were 
saved,  how  you  came  by  the  little  spring?" 

"None!"  She  scarcely  breathed  the  word,  so 
low  was  it  uttered,  and  she  was  trembling  like  a  leaf. 

"Lucille,  your  soul  is  too  pure  to  utter  a  false- 
hood. You  were  unconscious  when  you  were  borne 
to  that  spring,  but  some  one  rescued  you,  some  one 
carried  you  to  that  spring  and  revived  you,  and 
you  know  who  it  was,  but  for  some  reason  you  keep 
it  secret." 

He  paused.     Lucille  was  like  a  startled  hare, 


306  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

looking  in  vain  for  a  way  to  escape.  She  had 
arisen,  but  had  to  grasp  a  chair  for  support.  At 
last  she  managed  to  gasp,  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"Have  I  not  spoken  the  truth?"  he  asked  in 
an  insinuating  tone. 

Her  spirit  came  to  the  rescue.  "How  dare  you 
question  me!"  she  exclaimed,  with  flaming  face. 
"Have  you  sought  this  interview  to  insult  me?" 

"God  forbid;  I  love  you  too  well.  I  have  not 
only  spoken  the  truth,  but  I  know  who  rescued  you. 

"Know — who — rescued — me — "  The  words 
came  brokenly  from  her  white  lips. 

"Yes;  it  was  Captain  Shackelford,  the  escaped 
Yankee  prisoner  and  murderer." 

She  tottered,  and  would  have  fallen,  if  Major 
Kenyon  had  not  sprung  forward  and  supported  her. 

Gently  seating  her,  he  continued:  "Darling, 
I  have  not  told  you  this  to  distress  you,  or  to  upbraid 
you.  Instead,  I  honor  you  for  what  you  have 
done.  Escaped  prisoner  and  murderer  that  he  is, 
your  soul  shrank  from  delivering  to  death  the  man 
who  saved  your  life.  That  he  saved  you  would 
atone  for  a  dozen  murders.  Lucille,  I  hold  this 
man's  life  in  my  hands.  Recall  your  cruel  words, 
give  back  the  love  that  was  once  mine,  and  Captain 
Shackelford  shall  go  free.  Lucille,  I  cannot  live 
without  you";  and  he  stretched  forth  his  arms  as 
if  to  embrace  her. 

She  made  a  slight  gesture  as  if  to  repel  him, 
then  pressed  her  hands  to  her  throbbing  temples. 
He  thought  he  had  conquered,  and  a  gleam  of  tri- 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNEY.  Z°1 

umph  spread  over  his  face.  She  saw  it,  and  with 
a  woman's  intuition,  read  the  soul  of  the  man. 

' '  Major  Kenyon, ' '  she  at  length  said,  ' '  I  thought 
you  were  ordered  to  Macon." 

"So  I  am,  and  that  is  why  I  plead  for  an  answer 
before  I  go." 

"How  can  you  protect  this  Captain  Shackelford 
when  you  go  away?  The  whole  country  is  looking 
for  him." 

"Trust  me  for  that.  I  will  give  orders  for  the 
men  to  continue  their  search  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river.  I  believe  when  I  reach  Macon  I  can  get 
permission  to  return.  I  hope  to  see  you  again 
inside  of  two  days." 

"Go,  then,  Major;  I  must  think  on  what  you 
have  said.  I  will  give  you  my  answer  when  you 
return." 

"But  the  Yankee  may  be  gone." 

"If  there  is  any  Yankee,  as  you  suppose,  he 
may  be  gone  now." 

"Curse  this  order!"  exclaimed  the  major,  losing 
control  of  himself.  "Why  should  it  come  just  now? 
Lucille,  I  shall  give  orders  to  have  the  country  so 
thoroughly  guarded  that  if  Shackelford  attempts  to 
leave  his  hiding-place  he  will  surely  be  captured. 
His  only  safety  will  be  to  remain  where  he  is"  ;  and 
he  gave  her  a  look  as  much  as  to  say,  "Keep  him 
where  he  is,  if  you  wish  to  save  his  life."  Then  he 
added  in  gentler  tones:  "Good  night,  Lucille;  I 
must  be  in  Macon  by  morning,  but  I  hope  to  return 
in  a  couple  of  days,  and  may  your  answer  make  me 


3oS  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

the  happiest  man  in  Georgia";  and  he  took  her 
unresisting  hand  and  kissed  it,  but  her  face  was  cold 
and  expressionless. 

Major  Kenyon  found  the  judge  surrounded  by 
an  excited  group  of  neighbors  discussing  the  fall  of 
Atlanta.  They  were  all  much  depressed  by  the 
news,  and  many  predicted  that  the  end  was  near. 

"The  end  will  come  when  the  South  is  free,  or 
when  we  are  all  dead,"  said  the  major,  as  he 
mounted  his  horse.  "You  little  know  the  army; 
they  will  never  surrender." 

"How  about  the  escaped  prisoner?"  asked  an 
officer  of  the  State  troops. 

"Continue  the  search  across  the  river,  but  see 
that  every  road  is  picketed.  I  shall  try  to  be  back 
in  a  couple  of  days"  ;  and  with  these  words  he  gal- 
loped away. 

After  Major  Kenyon  had  left  her  Miss  de  Court- 
ney sat  for  some  time  in  a  profound  reverie.  What 
was  this  Yankee  captain  to  her?  She  would  not 
betray  him,  but  why  try  to  shield  him?  Why  had 
she  not  taunted  Major  Kenyon  with  his  baseness, 
and  bidden  him  do  his  duty  as  a  soldier  and  arrest 
this  escaped  prisoner?  Was  it  not  in  the  faint  hope 
that  in  some  manner  she  might  save  her  rescuer? 
She  recalled  Fred  as  he  stood  before  her.  How 
handsome  and  noble  he  looked,  even  in  his  rags. 
His  words  as  he  said,  "Go,  place  the  halter  around 
my  neck,  if  you  will,  but  remember  you  deliver  to 
death  one  who  has  saved  your  life,"  came  to  her 
with    startling    distinctness.      She    looked    at    her 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNET.  309 

hand — not  the  one  Major  Kenyon  had  kissed,  but 
the  one  Fred  had ;  the  thrill  of  that  kiss  seemed  to 
linger. 

"I  must,  I  will  save  him!"  she  cried;  and 
springing  up  she  sought  her  faithful  groom,  Cato. 

"Cato,  I  can  trust  you,  can't  I?" 

"Why  missy  ask  old  Cato  dat?"  he  asked,  with 
a  grieved  expression. 

"I  know  I  can,  Cato;  forgive  me  for  asking." 
She  told  him  all  that  had  happened,  and  added: 
"If  they  catch  this  Yankee,  they  will  hang  him. 
I  want  to  save  him;  will  you  take  a  letter  to  him?" 

"De  Lawd  bress  him,"  cried  the  negro,  "fo' 
savin'  my  sweet  missy's  life.  Ole  Cato  carry  de 
lettah." 

Miss  de  Courtney  sat  down  and  wrote  a  short 
note.  Giving  it  to  Cato,  she  said:  "When  he  left 
me  he  went  up  the  river  from  the  little  spring. 
I  think  you  will  find  him  hiding  in  the  woods.  Be 
careful,  or  he  may  shoot  you.  Better  call  his  name, 
softly;  it's  Shackelford  —  Captain  Shackelford. 
Can  you  remember  it?" 

"Yes,  missy;  trust  ole  Cato."  And  taking  the 
letter,  he  silently  stole  out  of  the  house  and  Avas 
speeding  through  the  darkness  to  carry  his  errand. 

No  sooner  was  Cato  gone  than  Miss  de  Court- 
ney repented  of  what  she  had  done.  "Oh!  why 
did  I  do  it,  why  did  I  do  it?"  she  sobbed,  wring- 
ing her  hands;  "but  I  couldn't  see  him  hanged." 
And  she  waited  in  feverish  expectancy  for  Cato's 
return. 


310  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

When  Fred  left  Miss  de  Courtney  he  felt  he  had 
done  something  that  greatly  imperiled  the  safety  of 
himself  and  companions.  He  had  no  fear  that  Miss 
de  Courtney  would  betray  him,  if  she  could  possibly 
help  it.  But  how  could  she  explain  what  had  hap- 
pened to  her?  He  would  have  watched  and  seen 
what  took  place,  but  he  knew  that  Darling  and 
Smith  would  be  greatly  alarmed,  so  he  hastened  to 
them.  If  he  had  waited  and  seen  Major  Kenyon 
examining  the  ground,  he  would  have  carried  Smith 
to  another  hiding-place.  As  it  was,  he  resolved  to 
remain  where  they  were.  Then,  if  the  truth  must 
be  told,  he  hungered  for  another  sight  of  the  beau- 
tiful girl  he  had  rescued. 

He  met  Darling  coming  to  seek  him.  He  had 
heard  the  pistol-shot,  and  watched  in  an  agony  of 
apprehension  until  he  could  wait  no  longer.  Fred 
explained  what  had  happened,  and  said,  "Dick, 
I  don't  know  but  I  did  a  foolish  thing,  but 
I  couldn't  see  her  drown." 

"Captain,  I  don't  blame  you  a  bit.  What! 
see  a  woman  drown,  and  not  raise  a  hand  to  help 
her?  Captain,  I  would  have  been  ashamed  of  you 
if  you  had.     Was  she  beautiful?" 

"Dick,  she  was  the  most  lovely  creature  I  ever 
saw.      I — I — oh,  I  am  a  fool,  Dick." 

"No,  not  that;  but  she  may  betray  us,  Cap- 
tain." 

"She  would  die  first,"  cried  Fred  with  vehe- 
mence; "but  she  despises  me;  she  thinks  I  am 
a  murderer;  she  told  me  as  much." 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNEY.  311 

"Had  we  not  better  move?" 

Fred  looked  at  Smith.  He  now  lay  as  helpless 
as  a  child.  "Dick,  it  would  be  cruel  to  him;  I  will 
risk  the  danger  if  you  will." 

"I  am  with  you,  Captain." 

So  it  was  settled  they  should  stay  where  they 
were.  It  was  now  dark;  Fred  told  Darling  to  try 
and  get  some  sleep,  that  he  would  watch  over  Smith 
and  stand  guard. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  when  Fred's  quick  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  some  one  making  his  way 
stealthily  through  the  bushes.  His  revolver  was 
in  his  hand  in  a  moment,  and  he  listened  breath- 
lessly. He  was  amazed  to  hear  a  low  voice  call, 
"Massa  Shackelford,  Massa  Shackelford!" 

It  was  a  negro's  voice,  and  he  knew  that  its 
owner  meant  no  harm.  "Who  are  you,"  asked 
Fred,  "and  what  do  you  want?" 

"Ole  Cato,"  the  voice  answered.  "Ar'  yo' 
Captain  Shackelford?" 

"Yes." 

"Missy  Lucille  sent  a  lettah  to  yo'." 

Fred's  heart  gave  a  great  bound  when  he  heard 
this.     "Bring  it  to  me,  Cato,  quick!" 

Cato  cautiously  advanced  and  delivered  the  let- 
ter to  Fred,  who  went  back,  and  scraping  away  the 
ashes  which  covered  the  top  of  the  fire  which  they 
kept  in  a  hole  they  had  dug,  he  held  the  paper 
close  to  the  coals,  and  read : 


312  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

The  Pines,  September  3,  1864. 
Captain  Shackelford: 

Although  you  are  a  Yankee,  and  an  enemy  of  my  country, 
you  saved  my  life,  and  I  feel  grateful  to  you.  Fly,  fly!  Major 
Kenyon  was  here;  he  had  to  go  to  Macon  this  evening.  But  he 
suspects  who  rescued  me;  he  noticed  your  tracks.  He  said 
he  would  return  in  a  couple  of  days.  Fly,  before  he  comes 
back,  not  only  for  your  sake,  but  my  own.  I  dare  not  tell  you 
more. 

It  may  be  news  to  you  that  Atlanta  has  fallen;  the  whole 
country  is  in  a  panic.  Lucille  de  Courtney. 

Atlanta  fallen!  Fred  told  the  glad  tidings  to  Dar- 
ling, and  they  hugged  each  other  like  two  school- 
girls. Then  the  glad  news  was  whispered  to  Smith. 
It  aroused  the  scout  from  his  lethargy. 

"Now,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  can  die  in  peace. 
The  good  Lord  He  let  me  live  long  enough  to  hear 
this.  Tell  the  ole  'oman  back  in  Kentuck  it's  all 
right." 

Fred  had  no  writing  material  on  which  to  pen 
a  reply,  so  he  said:  "Cato,  can  you  remember  what 
I  tell  you  to  tell  to  your  mistress?" 

"Yes,  massa;  ole  Cato  'member  ebbery  word." 

"Tell  her,  then,  that  Captain  Shackelford 
thanks  her  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  for  her 
kindness;  but  he  is  watching  by  the  side  of  a  dying 
comrade,  an  old  man,  and  he  cannot  leave  him 
until  his  eyes  are  closed  in  death,  even  to  save  his 
own  life.      Can  you  remember  that?" 

"Yes,  massa,  ebbery  word";  and  the  old  negro 
repeated  the  message. 

"That  will  do,  Cato;   now  go." 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNEY.  313 

"Will  he  be  true?"  asked  Darling,  a  little  ner- 
vously, after  the  negro  had  departed. 

"Yes,  as  true  as  Joe  was ;  there  is  nothing  to  fear 
from  him." 

All  through  the  night  Fred  watched  by  the  side 
of  Smith-  Darling  wanted  to  relieve  him,  but  he 
refused,  saying  that  he  could  not  sleep.  This  was 
true,  for  his  thoughts  were  all  of  Lucille  de  Court- 
ney. "Major  Kenyon  her  acquaintance,  perhaps  a 
lover!"  A  bitter  pang  of  jealousy  cut  him  like 
a  knife  at  the  thought.  What  did  she  mean  when 
she  said  she  did  not  dare  to  tell  him  more,  but  to 
fly  for  her  sake  ?  And  thus  Fred  questioned  him- 
self, and  to  all  his  questions  he  could  not  give 
a  satisfactory  answer. 

Cato  took  his  message  back  to  Miss  de  Courtney. 
Its  import  terrified  her.  He  would  not  go,  he 
would  not  leave  a  dying  comrade. 

That  night  in  her  dreams  Miss  de  Courtney  was 
once  more  riding  to  her  death ;  once  more  she  was 
saved  by  the  ragged  Yankee  prisoner.  Then  her 
dream  changed,  and  she  saw  Fred  in  the  hands  of 
his  enemies.  A  rope  was  around  his  neck,  a  raging 
mob  was  around  him.  Major  Kenyon  stood  by  and 
mocked  her  as  she  pleaded  for  his  life.  With 
a  shriek  she  awoke,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 
There  was  no  more  sleep  for  her  that  night,  and  she 
lay  awake,  thinking,  thinking,  and  scolding  herself 
for  her  folly. 

But  the  dream   made  such  a  strong  impression 


314  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

on  her  mind  that  she  determined  to  see  her  rescuer 
in  person  and  urge  upon  him  the  necessity  of  flight. 
She  came  down  to  the  breakfast-table,  listless,  ner- 
vous, and  with  dark  circles  beneath  her  eyes. 

"My  dear,"  said  her  aunt,  "you  look  sick;  the 
dreadful  experience  of  yesterday  was  too  much  for 
you.  No  wonder!  You  must  keep  your  room 
to-day." 

"No,"  replied  Miss  de  Courtney ;  "nothing  will 
do  me  so  much  good  as  a  swift  canter.  It  will  stir 
my  blood  and  cure  my  nervousness." 

"What,"  cried  Mrs.  Chambers,  "a  horseback 
ride  after  what  happened  yesterday!  Lucille,  are 
you  crazy?" 

"I  will  take  a  gentle  horse,  and  Cato  shall  ride 
by  my  side  for  protection.  Please  let  me  go,  aunt ; 
nothing  will  do  me  so  much  good.  I  shall  come 
back  feeling  like  a  new  person." 

So  it  was  agreed  that  she  might  take  a  gallop 
with  Cato  as  groom.  She  rode  straight  to  the 
little  spring,  and  with  a  blush  told  Cato  to  hunt  up 
the  Yankee  captain ;  she  wished  to  see  him. 

Cato  had  not  far  to  look,  for  Fred  had  been  at 
the  spring,  noting  every  track,  and,  we  are  afraid, 
acting  very  foolishly.  His  heart  gave  a  great  leap 
when  he  saw  Miss  de  Courtney  approaching.  He 
hastily  beat  a  retreat,  but  stationed  himself  where 
he  could  catch  a  view  of  the  beautiful  face  he  so 
longed  to  see. 

With  a  palpitating  heart  he  obeyed  her  sum- 
mons.     "This  is  kind  of  you5  Miss  de  Courtney," 


LUCILLE  DE   COURTNEY.  315 

he  began,  but  stopped.  There  was  something  in 
her  look  he  did  not  understand.  The  fact  was, 
Miss  de  Courtney  was  angry  at  herself,  angry  because 
she  had  come,  but  nothing  would  have  prevented 
her  from  coming. 

"Mr. — Mr. — "  she  began,  then  hesitated. 

"Shackelford,"  suggested  Fred. 

"Mr.  Shackelford,  I  have  come  again  to  urge 
you  to  flee.  You  are  in  the  gravest  peril.  Cato 
will  see  to  your  sick  comrade,  and  give  him  decent 
burial.  I — I — honor  you  for  your  devotion  to  your 
comrade,  but  I  cannot  bear  to  be  the  cause  of  your 
death.  Major  Kenyon  may  be  back  at  any  time. 
Fly,  while  you  can." 

"Miss  de  Courtney,  you  will  not  be  the  cause  of 
my  death,  if  death  comes.  You  have  done  your  full 
duty.  I  do  not  deserve  your  kindness.  I  am  an 
enemy  to  your  country,  an  escaped  prisoner  with 
a  price  on  my  head.  But  do  not  ask  me  to  leave 
my  old  comrade.  He  once  saved  my  life;  he  has 
borne  me  in  his  arms  when  wounded.  I  confess 
life  is  sweet  to  me  since  I  saw  you,  but  do  not  ask 
me  to  save  it  by  deserting  a  comrade  who  never 
deserted  me." 

"Oh,  I  cannot  have  your  blood  upon  my 
head!"  she  moaned. 

"You  will  not;  you  have  dared  everything  to 
save  me." 

"But  I  shall,"  she  cried,  excitedly.  "You 
don't  understand.  I  could  save  you,  but  oh!  I 
can't.      Major  Kenyon — "     She  stopped. 


3i6 


BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 


GENERAL  HARDEE. 


"Miss  de  Courtney,  what  do  you  mean?  What 
of  Major  Kenyon?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  nothing."     Then,  as  if  to  change 
the  subject,  she  suddenly  asked,    "Is  it  true  that 
you   are  a  son  of  General   Richard   Shackelford  of 
our  army?" 
"It  is  true." 

"The  country  is  ringing 
with  his  praises.  He  it  was 
who  checked  the  Federal 
charge  at  Jonesboro  and  saved 
Hardee's  corps.  How  can 
you,  with  such  a  father,  fight 
against  the  South?  I  hate 
you — I  hate  you.  You  are  a 
traitor  not  only  to  the  South, 
but  to  your  father." 

"Miss  de  Courtney,"  Fred  cried,  "I  love  the 
South,  but  I  love  the  Union  better.  The  South 
is  wrong." 

"I  will  not  hear  you;  you  claim  to  love  the 
South,  yet  trample  on  her  dearest  rights.  What 
is  your  flag  but  a  rag  of  coercion  and  oppression?" 
"I  was  wrong  to  differ  with  you,"  replied  Fred, 
humbly.  "I  am  an  enemy  to  your  country;  why 
not  deliver  me  over  to  those  seeking  me?" 

"I  will  not  betray  you,"  she  cried,  hotly.  "But 
why  torture  me.      Go,  go!" 

"Torture  you,  Miss  de  Courtney?  God  forbid! 
I  could  die  for  you." 

No  woman  could  misconstrue  the  look  in  Fred's 


LUCILLE  DB   COURTNET.  317 

eyes.  She  blushed  scarlet,  and  then  said,  gently: 
"Captain  Shackelford,  you  are  a  brave  man.  When 
a  man  with  a  halter  dangling  before  his  face 
refuses  to  desert  a  sick  comrade,  he  can  be  trusted. 
I  will  do  what  I  can  to  save  you." 

"If  ever  angel  trod  the  earth,  you  are  one," 
exclaimed  Fred;  and  he  made  a  motion  as  to  take 
her  hand. 

But  she  drew  it  gently  back,  and  saying  "Fare- 
well!" she  wheeled  her  horse  and  rode  swiftly 
away.  Fred  gazed  after  her  with  longing  eyes,  but 
she  did  not  look  back. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

LOVE   VERSUS  HONOR. 

WHEN  Lucille  de  Courtney  returned  from  her 
interview  with  Fred,  she  at  once  sought  the 
retirement  of  her  room,  telling  her  aunt  the  ride 
had  done  her  good,  but  that  she  felt  somewhat 
fatigued.  Her  mind  was  in  a  tumult.  She  knew 
she  had  done  something  that  would  bring  upon  her 
the  severest  condemnation,  if  known.  She  tried  to 
persuade  herself  that  it  was  only  gratitude  that 
prompted  her  to  seek  the  interview  with  her  pre- 
server, and  urge  him  to  flee.  But  she  was  con- 
scious of  a  stronger  feeling  than  gratitude,  a  feeling 
that  she  dared  not  and  would  not  analyze.  She 
only  knew  that  the  safety  of  Captain  Shackelford 
was  the  absorbing  passion  of  her  heart.  For  it  she 
was  willing  to  face  the  anger,  even  the  scorn,  of 
those  she  held  dear. 

She  spent  a  miserable  day,  alternately  bewailing 
her  folly  and  then  wondering  whether  Captain 
Shackelford  would  really  court  death  rather  than 
desert  his  sick  comrade.  She  prayed  that  he  would 
go,  so  that  she  might  be  relieved  of  the  fearful 
responsibility  resting  upon  her;  yet  in  her  heart 
she  hoped  that  he  would  not  go — she  would  be  dis- 
appointed in  him  if  he  did. 

3i8 


LOVE    VERSUS  HONOR.  319 

"If  he  loved  me  as  Major  Kenyon  professes  to, " 
she  said  to  herself,  "I  do  not  believe  he  would 
swerve  one  iota  from  what  he  considers  to  be  his 
duty.  I  do  not  believe  he  would  leave  his  sick 
comrade  if  I  begged  him  on  my  knees  to  do  so — 
and  oh!   I  honor  him  for  it." 

Then  like  a  flash  came  the  recollection  that 
Major  Kenyon  had  compromised  his  duty  as  a  sol- 
dier in  hopes  of  winning  her;  that  he  had  coolly 
proposed  to  let  Shackelford  go,  the  very  man  that 
he  was  commissioned  to  catch,  if  she  would  promise 
to  marry  him. 

"For  his  passion  for  me,"  she  said,  "he  has 
proved  false  to  his  vows  as  a  soldier;  if  a  stronger 
passion  than  his  love  for  me  should  ever  possess 
him,  he  would  be  false  to  me." 

Then  a  thought,  a  terrible  thought,  took  pos- 
session of  her.  Would  she  not  be  as  false  as  Major 
Kenyon  if  she  married  him  as  a  loveless  wife,  even 
to  save  the  life  of  one  she  did  love? 

"If  Captain  Shackelford  were  in  Major  Ken- 
yon's  place,"  she  said  to  herself,  "if  he  loved  me 
better  than  life  itself,  he  would  never  compromise 
his  honor  to  win  me,  and  he  would  despise  me 
for  saving  his  life  by  taking  upon  myself  false 
vows." 

And  she  was  right.  There  are  in  this  world 
many  things  worse  than  death,  among  them  the  loss 
of  self-respect  and  honor. 

Filled  with  this  thought,  her  mind  was  fully 
made  up.      Not   for  a  moment   would   she   think  of 


320  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

marrying  Major  Kenyon.  And  with  this  determi- 
nation came  an  abiding  hope  that  in  some  man- 
ner Captain  Shackelford  would  baffle  his  enemies 
and  escape,  and  the  thought  gave  her  great  happi- 
ness. 

When  night  came  she  had  Cato  carry  some  food 
to  the  fugitives,  and  with  it  a  canteen  of  hot  soup 
for  Smith.  She  listened  eagerly  to  what  Cato  had 
to  say  when  he  returned,  and  her  eyes  glistened 
when  he  told  how  Fred  refused  to  drink  the  soup 
when  he  found  that  Smith  could  not.  And  every 
word  of  the  message  that  Fred  sent  by  the  old 
negro  was  treasured  in  her  heart. 

"Ole  Yankee  mighty  sick,"  said  Cato;  "dead 
befo'  mornin'."  Then  they  would  be  gone  by 
morning,  and  Kenyon  would  be  cheated  of  his  prey. 
She  fervently  prayed  that  such  might  be  the  case, 
and  yet  the  thought  that  she  might  never  see  Cap- 
tain Shackelford  again  caused  her  deeper  pain  than 
she  would  confess. 

She  told  Cato  to  pretend  to  go  fishing  early  in 
the  morning,  and  see  if  the  Yankees  had  gone. 
"Tell  them,"  said  she,  "if  they  have  not  gone,  that 
Major  Kenyon  will  surely  be  back  some  time  dur- 
ing the  day,  and  that  I  can  do  nothing  more." 

All  through  the  night  she  lay  in  an  agony  of 
fear;  every  sound  caused  her  to  start,  thinking  it 
might  be  the  major  returning. 

She  was  up  early,  walking  in  the  garden,  eagerly 
waiting  the  return  of  Cato,  when  she  was  startled 
by   the  sound  of   horses'   feet,  and  Major  Kenyon, 


LOVE    VERSUS  HONOR.  32 1 

accompanied  by  several  soldiers,  galloped  up.  The 
major  caught  sight  of  her,  and  throwing  the  bridle 
of  his  horse  to  one  of  the  soldiers,  at  once  joined 
her. 

"Good  morning,  Lucille,"  he  exclaimed.  "This 
is  indeed  a  pleasure  for  which  I  am  truly  thankful. 
Will  you  not  gather  me  a  bouquet?" 

She  gathered  a  handful  of  flowers  and  handed 
them  to  him,  but  without  a  word.  He  took  them 
eagerly,  raised  them  to  his  lips,  saying:  "And  is 
this  all  of  your  greeting,  Lucille?  Can  you  not,  will 
you  not  recall  the  cruel  words  that  you  uttered 
when  I  went  away?  Tell  me  it  was  all  a  mistake, 
that  you  are  the  same  little  girl  who  loved  me  in 
Columbia." 

"Major  Kenyon, "  answered  Lucille,  "if  I  prom- 
ised to  marry  you,  I  should  be  guilty  of  deception 
and  cruelty,  for  I  do  not  love  you.  I  have  consid- 
ered well  what  you  said,  and  I  can  never  marry 
you.  I  have  asked  you  to  be  my  friend;  if  you 
persist  in  being  a  lover,  we  must  part." 

"Lucille,"  exclaimed  Major  Kenyon,  choking 
with  mortification  and  anger,  "is  that  your  final 
decision?" 

"Final  and  irrevocable." 

"Then,  by  heavens!  you  shall  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  the  man  who  saved  your  life  hanged 
before  night.  He  can't  be  far  off,  for  I  have  had 
every  avenue  of  escape  carefully  guarded";  and  he 
turned  to  go. 

"Stop!"    The  command  was  so  imperative  that 


322  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

he  halted  instantly.      "Is  it  your  duty  as  a  soldier 
to  capture  this  man?"  she  asked. 

"It  is;  you  know  it." 

"Then  for  the  sake  of  my  hand  in  a  loveless 
marriage  you  would  prove  false  to  your  country, 
false  to  your  honor  as  a  soldier.  Know  that 
I  would  have  honored  you  more,  trusted  you  more, 
if  you  had  held  your  honor  above  my  love.  No 
soldier  who  forgets  honor  is  worthy  the  love  of 
a  true  woman.      Go!     I  despise  you." 

While  she  was  speaking,  Major  Kenyon  stood 
as  if  rooted  to  the  ground,  stood  as  if  deprived  of 
the  power  of  speech,  staring  at  her  in  dumb  amaze- 
ment. 

Recovering  from  his  surprise,  he  answered,  with 
biting  sarcasm:  "I  thank  you,  Miss  de  Courtney, 
for  pointing  out  to  me  my  duty — a  duty  which 
I  forgot  through  the  wiles  of  a  designing  woman. 
Before  night  you  shall  have  the  supreme  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  Captain  Shackelford  dangling  at  the 
end  of  a  rope,  and  as  he  hangs  I  shall  whisper  in 
his  ear  it  was  you  who  betrayed  him.  I  shall  also 
take  care  that  all  shall  know  who  saved  your  life, 
and  how  you  repaid  your  preserver.  Good  morn- 
ing, Miss  de  Courtney." 

With  these  words  he  turned,  with  a  mocking 
smile  upon  his  cruel  lips,  and  swiftly  left  her. 

She  heard  him  ordering  his  men  to  mount,  and 
knew  what  it  meant.  A  sudden  resolution  seized 
her.  She  knew  not,  cared  not,  what  the  result 
would  be  to  her.      She  rushed  to  the  barn. 


LOVE    VERSUS  HONOR.  323 

"Saddle  me  the  swiftest  horse,"  she  cried. 
"Quick!  quick!" 

In  a  moment  more  she  was  riding  as  for  life 
toward  the  place  where  she  knew  Captain  Shackel- 
ford was. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH. 

WHEN  Lucille  de  Courtney  left  Fred,  he 
watched  her  with  eager  eyes  until  out  of 
sight ;  then  with  a  sigh  he  sought  his  comrades. 
Miss  de  Courtney  had  moved  his  heart  in  a  way 
that  he  did  not  understand,  stirred  it  deeper  than 
he  would  have  been  willing  to  acknowledge. 

On  his  return  he  found  Darling  very  uneasy  over 
his  prolonged  absence. 

"Captain,"  he  asked,  "did  I  not  hear  the  sound 
of  horses'  feet?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Fred,  shortly. 

"Did  you  see  who  it  was?" 

"Yes." 

"Captain,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?  You 
do  not  seem  yourself.  Is  there  danger?  If  so, 
why  not  tell  me?' ' 

"Dick,  forgive  me;  I  am  not  myself.  It  was 
Miss  de  Courtney,  the  girl  I  saved  from  drowning 
yesterday.  She  came  to  urge  us  to  fly.  Major 
Kenyon  may  be  back  at  any  time,  and  she  says 
the  hunt  for  us  will  be  prosecuted  with  tenfold 
vigor." 

Darling  gave  a  low  whistle.  "Captain,"  he 
3H 


THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH.  325 

exclaimed,  "that  girl  is  taking  a  great  interest  in 
you.    I  am  afraid  you  will  be  captured,  if  I  am  not." 

"Dick,  that  girl  is  an  angel." 

"So  every  fellow  thinks  about  some  girl  sooner 
or  later.  I  thought  so  once.  That's  what  sent 
me  roaming  out  West.  My  angel  proved  very 
earthly." 

"I  am  sorry,  Dick;  you  must  tell  me  all  about  it 
some  time.  But  you  should  see  Miss  de  Courtney. 
I  have  always  thought  Mabel  Vaughn  and  my 
cousin  Kate  the  most  beautiful  girls  I  ever  saw, 
but  they  are  nowhere  compared  to  Miss  de  Court- 
ney." 

"Captain,  does  the  fair  being  reciprocate?" 

Fred's  countenance  fell.  "I — I  don't  know," 
he  stammered.  Darling  looked  at  him  quizzically 
for  a  moment,  and  then  burst  out  laughing. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at,  Dick?"  asked  Fred, 
a  little  nettled. 

"At  your  appearance,  Captain.  If  that  girl 
takes  to  you  now,  I  cannot  commend  her  taste. 
Clothed  in  rags  and  covered  with  mud.  Face  cov- 
ered with  a  beautiful  reddish  fuzz.  Oh,  Captain, 
you  should  see  yourself!" 

' '  No  need  of  that ;  I  have  only  to  look  at  you , ' ' 
replied  Fred,  rather  bitterly.  "But,  Dick,  no 
more  of  this ;  it  makes  me  sick  to  think  of  my  ap- 
pearance. You  stand  guard  while  I  watch  over 
poor  Smith.  Dick,  the  end  cannot  be  far  away; 
we  have  taken  the  last  scout  together." 

Darling  did  not  answer,  his  heart  was  too  sore. 


326  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Throughout  the  whole  day  Fred  watched  by  the 
side  of  the  dying  man.  Smith  lay  most  of  the 
time  in  a  quiet  slumber;  but  once  or  twice  when 
Fred  addressed  him  in  endearing  terms,  he  opened 
his  eyes  and  smiled.  Once  he  took  Fred's  hand 
and  held  it  for  a  long  time.  He  seemed  to  suffer 
no  pain,  but  lay  like  a  child  peacefully  slumbering. 

Night  brought  Cato.  He  reported  all  quiet; 
that  Major  Kenyon  had  not  returned,  that  most  of 
the  men  who  were  looking  for  them  were  still 
searching  across  the  river.  He  brought  them  some 
more  food,  and  with  it  a  canteen  of  nourishing  soup 
for  Smith. 

"Tell  your  mistress,"  said  Fred,  with  a  tremor 
in  his  voice,  "if  the  prayers  of  an  enemy  can  avail, 
she  will  never  meet  with  misfortune." 

But  Smith  was  past  eating.  Fred  handed  back 
the  canteen  to  Cato,  with  a  sigh.  "Take  it,  Cato," 
he  said;  "he  don't  need  it;  but  God  bless  your 
mistress  for  sending  it." 

With  the  night  there  came  a  storm.  Smith 
wandered  in  his  mind.  To  him  the  crash  of  thun- 
der was  the  roar  of  artillery.  "The  battle  is  on," 
he  cried;  "Captain,  whar  air  yo'?" 

"Here,  Smith,  here,"  said  Fred,  taking  his 
hand;  "right  by  your  side." 

"Captain,  heah  that,"  he  cried,  as  a  heavier  peal 
than  usual  shook  the  earth.  "Sherman  is  giving 
it  to  them." 

"Yes,  Smith;   Sherman  has  Atlanta." 

"Sherman  has  Atlanta!"   cried  the  old  man,  in 


THE  DEATH   OF  SMITH.  327 

a  voice  that  sounded  almost  natural.  "I  knowed 
it;   I  knowed  he  would  take  it." 

At  last  the  storm  passed  away,  and  the  stars 
came  out,  but  to  those  lonely  watchers  in  the  woods 
there  seemed  to  be  no  star  of  hope.  The  black- 
ness and  fury  of  the  storm  suited  their  condition 
better. 

After  the  storm  Smith  did  not  quiet  down,  but 
talked  to  himself  incessantly.  Once  more  he  was 
riding  with  Fred  on  the  scout.  Then  he  and  Dar- 
ling were  rescuing  Fred  from  the  hands  of  Forrest. 

"Thar,  Captain,"  he  said,  soothingly,  "put  yo' 
arms  'round  Smith's  neck;  thar,  that  will  do. 
Don't  worry;  I  will  carry  you.  I  will  git  yo'  to 
Nashville  in  time." 

Then  he  cried,  excitedly:  "Great  God!  he  is 
goin'  to  shoot  the  captain"  ;  and  in  his  delirium  he 
again  killed  Conway,  and  saved  Fred's  life. 

"Dick,  Dick,"  said  Fred,  brokenly,  "I  can't 
stand  it.  Dying  he  thinks  of  me."  And  going 
away  a  short  distance,  Fred  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  and  gave  way  to  a  passion  of  grief. 

At  last  the  long,  long  night  passed  away.  Just 
as  the  sun  was  rising  Smith  opened  his  eyes,  and 
they  no  longer  gleamed  with  the  delirium  of  fever. 

"Captain,"  he  whispered,  "ole  Smith  is  goin'. 
Whar  is  Dick?" 

"On  guard." 

"Call  him." 

Dick  was  called. 

"Good-bye,     Captain;     good-bye,     Dick,"    he 


328  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

faintly  whispered.  "Don't  cry,  boys,  don't  cry; 
it  don't  matter.      It's  only  John  Smith." 

Then  he  motioned  for  them  to  bend  closer. 
"Tell  Sally — yo'  know  she  lives  in  Elizabethtown — 
an'  the  gals,  Mary  an'  Lucy,  that  ole  Smith  never 
disgraced  them,  or — or — old  Kentuck,"  and  he 
was  gone. 

"No  truer  heart  ever  beat,"  said  Fred,  as  with 
gentle  hand  he  closed  the  sightless  eyes  and  folded 
the  pulseless  hands  across  his  breast. 

Just  then  a  ray  of  sunlight  straggled  down 
through  the  pine-boughs  and  rested  on  the  head  of 
the  dead,  causing  the  gray  locks  to  be  crowned  with 
an  aureole  of  light. 

"See!  see!"  said  Fred,  pointing  at  it;  "the  sun 
is  using  one  of  his  brightest  beams  to  paint  a  halo 
such  as  the  old  masters  place  around  the  heads  of 
their  saints." 

"And  more  worthy  it  is  to  be  so  crowned  than 
many  that  have  been,"  reverently  said  Darling. 

What  disposition  to  make  of  the  body  was  set- 
tled by  Cato,  who  appeared  with  a  fishing-rod  over 
his  shoulder,  also  with  a  basket  of  food. 

"Cato,"  they  eagerly  asked,  "can  you  get  us 
a  spade?" 

"Yes,  massa;  Cato  tell  dem  he  wants  it  to  dig 
bait." 

"Then  hurry." 

Throwing  down  his  fishing-rod,  the  negro  at  once 
started  on  his  errand. 

But  Fred  and   Darling  fell  to  with  their  ax,  the 


THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH.  329 

one  cutting  up  the  earth  and  the  other  scooping  it 
out  with  his  hands,  and  by  the  time  Cato  returned 
they  had  the  grave  nearly  completed.  The  negro 
was  breathless  with  running,  and  was  greatly  excited. 
As  soon  as  he  could  speak  he  gasped : 

"Oh,  Massa  Captain!  Major  Kenyon  he  back; 
was  talkin'  wid  Missy  Lucille  in  garden.  He  be 
after  yo',  suah." 

So  Fred  thought.  Quickly  lining  the  grave  with 
bark,  they  placed  all  that  was  mortal  of  their  late 
comrade  in  his  narrow  bed ;  then  covering  the  body 
with  more  bark,  they  quickly  shoveled  back  the 
earth,  and  their  task  of  love  was  completed. 

But  hardly  was  it  done  when  Cato  called  out: 
"Massa,  massa!  da  cumin',"  and  disappeared  like 
a  flash  in  the  woods. 

Looking,  they  saw  Miss  de  Courtney  galloping 
furiously  toward  them,  and  wildly  motioning  to 
them  to  run.  A  short  distance  in  the  rear  of  Miss 
de  Courtney  was  Major  Kenyon,  urging  his  horse 
to  his  utmost  speed,  while  still  in  the  rear  of  him 
was  Judge  Chambers  with  several  other  horsemen. 

"Run,  Dick,  run  for  the  river!"  cried  Fred. 
"I  must  speak  to  Miss  de  Courtney   before   I   go." 

"For  God's  sake,  Captain,  come!"  shouted 
Darling.  "A  moment's  delay  will  be  fatal,  but  not 
a  foot  will  I  stir  until  you  come." 

Swift  as  the  wind,  urging  her  steed  with  caress 
and  word,  came  Miss  de  Courtney.  Her  hat  was 
gone,  her  long  brown  hair  flying  in  the  breeze,  her 
face  flaming  with  excitement. 


33°  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Reining  in  her  horse,  she  cried:  "Run,  run! 
Major  Kenyon  will  be  here  in  a  moment.  He  will 
show  no  mercy." 

Springing  to  her  side,  Fred  seized  her  unresist- 
ing hand.  "If  I  go,  will  it  leave  you  in  danger? 
If  so,  I  will  never  leave  you." 

"No!  No!     Go!" 

"Then  farewell !  May  God  bless  you  !  Forgive 
me,  but  I  love  you — love  you  with  a  love  past  un- 
derstanding." And  pressing  her  hand  to  his  lips, 
he  was  gone. 

But  not  before  Major  Kenyon  was  on  them. 
He  raised  his  revolver  to  fire,  but  Miss  de  Courtney 
struck  his  horse  with  her  riding- whip ;  the  horse 
sprang,  disconcerted  his  aim,  and  his  shot  went  wild. 

"Traitoress!"  he  shrieked,  "that  Yankee  lover 
of  yours  shall  not  escape";  but  before  he  could 
quiet  his  horse,  steed  and  rider  went  rolling  on  the 
ground. 

Fred  had  turned,  but  unwilling  to  take  human 
life  in  the  presence  of  Miss  de  Courtney,  he  had 
fired  at  Major  Kenyon's  horse,  hitting  him  squarely 
in  the  forehead. 

"Now,  Dick,"  he  shouted,  "for  the  river!  We 
must  run  for  it. 

Extricating  himself  from  his  fallen  horse,  Major 
Kenyon  struggled  to  his  feet.  Forgetting  himself 
in  his  rage,  he  cursed  Miss  de  Courtney  as  a  traitor- 
ess,  and  called  down  all  manner  of  maledictions  on 
the  head  of  Captain  Shackelford.  Before,  his 
hatred  of  Fred  was  caused  by  wounded  vanity,  but 


MISS    DE  COURTNEY    STRUCK    HIS    HORSE,    AND    HIS    SHOT 
WENT  WILD. 


THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH.  33 1 

now  he  was  filled  with  a  jealous  rage  which  made 
a  demon  of  him. 

By  this  time  Judge  Chambers  and  half  a  dozen 
men  were  on  the  scene.  They  stared  in  amazement 
at  the  dead  horse,  the  new-made  grave,  the  furious 
major,  and  then  at  Miss  de  Courtney,  who  sat  on 
her  horse  as  motionless  and  white  as  a  piece  of 
sculptured  marble. 

"What — what  does  this  mean?"  shouted  the 
judge.  "Major  Kenyon,  I  shall  hold  you  account- 
able for  using  such  language  in  the  presence  of  my 
niece." 

"Judge  Chambers,  you  do  not  understand," 
excitedly  exclaimed  the  major.  "Your  niece  is 
a  traitoress.  She  has  been  hiding  and  abetting  the 
murderer  of  Lieutenant  Brown.  She  struck  my 
horse  and  disconcerted  my  aim,  else  I  would  have 
shot  him  dead  in  his  tracks.  She  did  this  to  save 
the  life  of  her  Yankee  lover." 

"Lover!  lover!"  thundered  Judge  Chambers. 
"Beware,  Major  Kenyon,  what  charges  you  bring. 
Lucille,   explain." 

Then  all  that  was  noble  and  true  in  the  soul  of 
Lucille  de  Courtney  shone  forth.  The  men  cast 
threatening  glances  on  her,  but  she  did  not  heed 
them.  Drawing  herself  up  in  the  saddle,  her  face 
pale,  but  her  eyes  shining  like  two  stars,  she  said, 
proudly,  defiantly: 

"Uncle  Chambers,  it  is  true  I  shielded  this 
captain,  knowing  he  was  an  escaped  Federal  pris- 
oner, also  that  he  was  accused  of  slaying  Lieuten- 


332  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

ant  Brown.  Regardless  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
hunted  like  the  most  desperate  felon,  that  there 
was  a  price  on  his  head,  he  risked  all,  and  saved 
my  life.  He  it  was  who  shot  my  horse  just  as  he 
was  to  plunge  into  the  river.  He  it  was  who 
snatched  me  from  the  crumbling  bank  and  bore  me 
back  unconscious  to  the  little  spring,  and  there 
revived  me.  Could  I  betray  the  man  who  had 
saved  my  life?  Are  ye  men,  to  ask  me?  I  shielded 
him;  I  glory  in  it.  I  implored  him  to  flee.  He 
refused,  for  an  old  comrade  was  dying.  There  is 
his  grave.  Rather  than  leave  his  comrade  while 
alive,  this  young  Federal  captain  again  risked  cap- 
ture and  an  ignominious  death.  I  honor  him  for 
it.  It  was  to  watch  by  the  side  of  his  dying  com- 
rade that,  notwithstanding  my  prayers,  he  has 
remained  so  long  in  the  neighborhood.  I  rode 
here  this  morning  to  warn  him.  I  struck  Major 
Kenyon's  horse  so  as  to  disconcert  the  major's  aim. 
I  am  glad  I  did  it.      Do  with  me  as  you  like." 

She  stopped.  The  fire  died  out  of  her  eyes.  A 
faintness  seized  her,  and  she  reeled  and  nearly  fell 
from  her  saddle.  Recovering  herself,  she  sat  like 
a  drooping  lily. 

Her  burning  eloquence,  for  eloquence  it  was, 
carried  away  the  excitable  men  who  heard  it.  They 
were  true  sons  of  the  South,  of  all  men  the  most 
gallant  to  women. 

"Hurrah  for  Miss  de  Courtney!"  shouted 
a  young  ofificer,  swinging  his  hat;  and  the  cheers 
were  given  with  a  will. 


THE  DEATH  OP  SMITH.  333 

But  Judge  Chambers  was  astounded  at  Lucille's 
confession.  "Go  home,"  he  said,  not  unkindly; 
"we  will  settle  this  later." 

The  girl  wheeled  her  horse  and  rode  slowly  away. 

Just  then  one  of  the  party  cried,  "See,  the 
Yankees  have  swum  the  river." 

Sure  enough,  Fred  and  Darling  were  seen  to 
emerge  from  the  river  and  disappear  into  the 
woods. 

"They  must  not  escape,"  shouted  the  judge; 
"the  honor  of  my  house  forbids.  Men,  do  not  let 
the  whim  of  a  foolish,  romantic  girl  stand  between 
us  and  our  duty.  I  cannot  blame  the  girl  much, 
but  we  are  men.  Major  Kenyon,  do  your  full 
duty;   see  they  do  not  escape." 

"I  thank  you,  Judge,"  replied  the  major. 
"I  knew  you  would  not  blame  me  when  you  under- 
stood. Men,"  he  continued  to  those  around  him, 
"you  have  just  seen  the  murderers  of  Lieutenant 
Brown  disappear  in  the  woods  across  the  river. 
I  have  already  offered  a  reward  of  ten  thousand 
dollars  for  them,  dead  or  alive;  I  now  double  it. 
Let  the  whole  country  be  aroused;  make  escape 
impossible.  " 

In  a  moment  Lucille  de  Courtney  was  forgotten. 
The  men  were  once  more  savages,  keen  on  the  trail 
of  their  enemies,  thirsting  for  blood. 

Major  Kenyon  with  half  a  dozen  men,  accom- 
panied by  Judge  Chambers's  overseer  with  a  pack 
of  bloodhounds,  crossed  the  river  to  take  up  the 
trail  where  Fred  and  Darling  were  seen  to  enter  the 


334  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

wood.  Swift  riders  were  sent  to  arouse  the  whole 
country,  and  to  call  in  the  men  who  were  seeking 
for  the  escaped  Yankees  elsewhere,  and  by  noon 
full  five  hundred  men  were  searching  both  banks  of 
the  river. 

As  for  Fred  and  Darling,  they  knew  that  nothing 
would  be  left  undone  to  capture  them,  that  the 
whole  country  would  be  at  their  heels  as  merciless 
as  a  pack  of  wolves.  Once  out  of  the  water,  they 
shook  themselves  like  dogs,  to  free  their  clothing 
from  as  much  water  as  possible,  and  then  broke  into 
a  run. 

Darling  had  preserved  his  precious  ax,  while  Fred 
had  swum  the  river  holding  his  revolver  and  cart- 
ridge belt  up  in  one  hand,  thus  keeping  them  from 
getting  wet.  They  took  a  northerly  course,  and 
ran  for  about  three  miles,  when  they  suddenly  came 
upon  the  river,  there  being  a  bend  in  it  to  the 
west. 

Both  were  badly  winded,  and  they  felt  they 
could  not  keep  up  their  tremendous  pace  much 
longer.  They  stopped,  panting,  and  listening  like 
stags  at  bay;  already  the  faint  cry  of  dogs  could 
be  heard  in  the  distance. 

"We  would  better  swim  back  across  the  river," 
panted  Fred;  "it  will  at  least  throw  the  dogs  off 
the  scent." 

"Better  stay  while  we  have  strength,  and  fight 
and  die  like  men,"  answered  Darling.  "I  see  no 
possible  way  of  escaping." 

'If  die  we  must,  we  can  die  in  one  place  as  well 


THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH.  335 

as  in  another.  Let  us  die  trying;  all  hope  is  not 
gone." 

"Enough,  Captain;   lead  on." 

' '  Hold  a  moment, ' '  said  Fred ;  and  wading  down 
the  edge  of  the  stream  a  short  distance  to  where 
the  woods  grew  thick  to  the  river's  edge  and  the 
branches  of  a  tree  drooped  into  the  water,  he  broke 
off  several  of  the  limbs,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to 
clamber  into  the  tree. 

"Now,  Dick,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  dropped 
back  into  the  river;  and  both  were  soon  breasting 
the  current. 

It  being  swift,  they  were  carried  down-stream 
some  distance.  Just  before  reaching  the  opposite 
bank,  Fred  noticed  that  a  large  tree  had  been 
partly  undermined  by  the  water,  and  had  half  fallen 
over,  a  portion  of  its  roots  being  in  and  washed  by 
the  stream.  When  Fred  saw  it,  a  great  hope  filled 
his  heart.      Would  it  not  make  a  safe  retreat? 

"Dick,"   he  said,  "let  us  make  for  that  tree." 

Swimming  up  to  it,  they  parted  the  clinging 
roots,  and  saw  that  there  was  quite  a  large  cavity 
under  the  tree. 

"Dick,"  said  Fred,  joyously,  "I  believe  it  will 
save  us,  but  we  must  dive  for  it." 

This  they  did,  and  came  up  under  the  tree. 
Working  their  way  back,  they  found  a  place  where 
they  could  rest  above  the  water,  and  so  dark  that 
they  would  not  be  discovered,  even  if  one  parted 
the  roots  and  peered  in. 

"If  we  are  discovered,"  said  Fred,  "we  shall  be 


336  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

caught  like  rats  in  a  hole ;  but  one  thing  is  sure, 
the  dogs  cannot  track  us  here.  Dick,  I  believe  we 
are  safe." 

"I  believe  so,  too,  Captain.  I  had  about  given 
up  hope;  I  shall  never  lose  faith  again  until  the 
very  last." 

Soon  they  heard  the  barking  of  the  dogs,  and 
shouts  and  calls  of  their  pursuers.  At  the  river  the 
trail  was  lost. 

"The  wretches  must  have  swum  back  across  the 
river,"  said  the  major,  angrily. 

"Look  at  that  tree  which  hangs  over  the  water," 
cried  one  of  the  men;  "its  branches  are  freshly 
broken ;  it  looks  as  if  some  one  had  climbed  into  it 
in  a  hurry."      A  rush  was  made  for  the  tree. 

"A  Yankee  trick  to  throw  the  dogs  off  the 
scent,"  cried  the  major.  "They  could  pass  from 
one  tree  to  another  for  a  little  distance.  Look  for 
the  trail  farther  back." 

But  all  search  proved  fruitless.  The  dogs  ran 
round  and  round,  but  the  trail  was  completely  lost. 

"They  might  be  hiding  among  the  thick  foliage 
of  some  of  the  trees,"  remarked  another. 

A  careful  survey  gave  no  signs  of  the  fugi- 
tives. 

"Those  broken  branches  were  nothing  but  a 
blind,"  at  length  exclaimed  the  major,  with  an 
oath.  "Like  fools,  we  have  swallowed  their  bait. 
They  swam  back  across  the  river,  and  by  this  time 
are  three  or  four  miles  away.  Fools!  fools!  that 
we  are." 


THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH.  337 

"There  is  a  ford  half  a  mile  above,"  shouted 
one  of  the  men ;  and  with  oaths  and  cries  of  baffled 
rage  the  whole  party  started  for  the  ford. 

Soon  hundreds  of  men  were  scouring  both  sides 
of  the  river,  but  no  trace  of  the  trail  could  be 
found.  If  the  earth  had  opened  and  swallowed 
Fred  and  Darling,  their  disappearance  could  not 
have  been  more  complete.  Although  baffled  at 
every  point,  the  search  was  kept  up  until  dark, 
when,  weary  and  furious,  the  pursuers  sought  their 
homes,  leaving  guards  to  watch  every  road. 

At  the  earnest  invitation  of  Judge  Chambers, 
Major  Kenyon  accompanied  him  home.  The 
major,  like  a  great  many  other  men,  never  valued 
a  thing  so  much  as  after  he  had  lost  it.  He  never 
loved  Lucille  de  Courtney  so  much  as  when  she 
seemed  lost  to  him  forever.  He  now  looked  on 
Judge  Chambers  as  a  valuable  ally,  and  hoped  that 
a  pressure  might  be  brought  on  Miss  de  Courtney 
which  would  induce  her  to  change  her  mind.  For 
this  reason  Major  Kenyon  readily  accepted  the 
judge's  invitation. 

On  their  way  they  earnestly  discussed  the  mys- 
tery of  the  Yankees'  sudden  disappearance. 

"Major,"  suddenly  said  the  judge,  "I  believe 
I  have  solved  the  problem.  Both  of  those  fellows 
are  at  the  bottom  of  the  Flint." 

The  major  started.  "What  makes  you  think 
so?"  he  eagerly  asked. 

"The  trail  led  plainly  to  the  river.  They  must 
have  been  exhausted  with  running;   they  heard  the 


338  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

dogs,  and  attempted  to  swim  back,  but  their  strength 
gave  out,  and  they  sank." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  at  length  responded 
the  major;  "there  is  no  other  reasonable  solution 
to  this  sudden  disappearance." 

So  it  was  given  out  that  the  Yankees  were 
drowned,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  a  large  number 
of  the  pursuers  who  had  gathered  at  Judge  Cham- 
bers's. The  judge  ordered  supper  for  all,  and  then 
he  and  Major  Kenyon  repaired  to  the  library  for  a 
private  conference. 

The  judge  was  greatly  scandalized  by  what  had 
happened.  That  one  of  his  own  household  should 
have  known  of  the  presence,  and  then  aided  in  the 
escape  of  a  Federal  prisoner  who  had  gone  so  far 
as  to  kill  an  officer  attempting  to  arrest  him,  filled 
him  with  indignation.  What  would  his  neighbors 
think?  How  would  it  affect  his  standing  in  the 
community?     The  judge  was  ill  at  ease. 

"Major  Kenyon,"  he  said,  "I  can  freely  forgive 
you  for  what  occurred  this  morning.  Under  the 
circumstances  it  is  no  wonder  you  lost  control  of 
yourself;  but  you  said  one  thing  that  needs  expla- 
nation. You  accused  this  Yankee  captain  of  being 
Lucille's  lover.  What  did  you  mean?  I  have 
had  a  vague  idea  that  you  and  Lucille  were  engaged, 
but  I  must  confess  she  has  not  treated  you  like 
a  lover  while  you  have  been  here." 

"Judge,"  the  major  replied,  in  his  softest  tones, 
"I  will  be  perfectly   frank  with  you.      I  love  your 


THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH.  339 

niece — wildly,  passionately.  When  she  was  little 
more  than  a  child,  about  three  years  ago,  I  asked 
her  to  be  my  wife.  She  seemed  pleased  with  my 
proposal,  and  referred  me  to  her  father.  Mr.  de 
Courtney  demurred  solely  on  account  of  the  ex- 
treme youth  of  Lucille.  You  know  his  high  sense 
of  honor,  that  he  considers  a  promise  as  binding  as 
an  oath.  So  he  forbade  a  positive  engagement, 
but  said  if  Lucille  remained  of  the  same  mind  when 
she  arrived  at  a  suitable  age,  he  would  offer  no 
objection.  I  have  always  considered  Lucille  as  my 
affianced  wife.  I  have  always  loved  her  as  such. 
Her  letters  to  me  have  always  been  models  of  affec- 
tion. She  wrote  me  to  visit  her  here,  but  as  a  girl- 
ish freak  requested  me  to  meet  her  merely  as 
a  friend;  that  she  did  not  wish  the  young  ladies  of 
the  neighborhood  to  know  that  I  was  her  accepted 
lover.  Imagine  my  surprise  when  she  told  me  this 
morning  that  there  could  be  nothing  between  us. 
I  charged  her  with  loving  this  murdering  Yankee 
captain,  and  she  shamelessly  admitted  it." 

So  skillfully  had  Major  Kenyon  interwoven  truth 
and  falsehood  that  Judge  Chambers  would  have 
been  thoroughly  convinced  of  its  truth  if  it  had  not 
been  for  one  thing.  His  judicial  mind  saw  one 
fatal  defect  in  the  story. 

"Major  Kenyon,"  replied  the  judge,  coldly, 
"one  thing  you  have  said  needs  an  explanation. 
You  say  that  you  charged  my  niece,  this  morning, 
with   concealing   the   hiding-place   and  loving   this 


34°  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Captain  Shackelford?  How  did  you  know  he  was 
in  the  neighborhood?"  and  the  judge  looked  at  him 
closely. 

For  once  Major  Kenyon  was  taken  back.  He 
turned  pale  and  clutched  at  his  throat  as  if  choking. 
But  it  was  only  for  a  moment.  He  arose  mightily 
to  the  occasion. 

"Judge  Chambers,"  he  answered,  without 
a  tremor,  "I  am  not  surprised  at  your  question. 
I  should  have  explained  that  before.  You  remember 
that  Lucille  told  us  she  had  no  remembrance  how 
she  came  to  that  little  spring  after  her  horse  plunged 
into  the  river.  I  noticed  that  she  was  startled  and 
frightened  when  you  questioned  heron  that  point." 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  said  the  judge.  "I  then 
thought  the  story  a  little  strange." 

"I  noticed  more,"  continued  the  major.  "There 
were  the  fresh  footprints  of  a  man  around  the 
spring.  But  it  was  no  time  then  to  accuse  a  lady 
of  deception.  I  found  the  same  tracks  where  her 
horse  went  into  the  river.  I  intended  to  lay  the 
whole  matter  before  you,  but  owing  to  the  news  of 
the  fall  of  Atlanta  and  my  sudden  summons  to 
Macon,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment  I  forgot 
to  tell  you  of  my  suspicions." 

"No  wonder,"  said  the  judge;  "it  was  enough 
to  upset   any  one." 

"In  all  of  that  long  night's  ride  to  Macon  I  was 
tortured  with  the  thought  that  for  some  reason 
Lucille  was  deceiving  us.  Suddenly  it  all  flashed 
on    me;   the    footprints  around   the   spring   on    the 


THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH.  34 1 

river  bank  were  made  by  the  same  person  that 
murdered  Lieutenant  Brown.  I  noticed  them 
closely  at  the  place  where  poor  Brown  was  killed. 
They  were  small  for  a  man  and  made  by  a  fine  boot. 
Then  it  was  all  plain  to  me.  Her  rescuer  was  the 
Yankee  Shackelford.  She  could  not  bear  to  betray 
the  man  who  had  saved  her  life,  and  so  she  deceived 
us.  I  could  not  condemn  her  under  the  circum- 
stances, but  it  was  my  duty  to  capture  him.  So 
I  obtained  another  leave  of  absence,  and  returned, 
but  little  expected  to  find  him  still  lingering  in  the 
neighborhood.  When  I  arrived  this  morning  I  saw 
Lucille  in  the  garden,  and  sought  an  interview  with 
her.  She  received  me  coldly,  and  coolly  informed 
me  all  was  over  between  us.  I  was  thunderstruck. 
I  pleaded  with  her,  but  to  all  of  my  pleadings  she 
turned  a  deaf  ear.  I  begged  for  a  reason  for  her 
refusal,  but  she  haughtily  declined  to  give  any. 
Half-crazed  by  her  conduct  and  stung  to  despera- 
tion, I  boldly  charged  her  with  her  deception,  and 
declared  my  belief  that  she  loved  this  Yankee 
desperado.  To  my  surprise  she  did  not  deny  the 
charge,  but  boldly  confessed  her  love  for  Captain 
Shackelford.  'Whom  I  will  hang  before  night,' 
I  cried,  beside  myself  with  rage  and  wounded 
love. 

"It  was  a  chance  shot,  for  I  fully  expected  the 
fellow  had  gone;  but  she  gave  a  little  cry,  and 
I  thought  she  was  going  to  faint.  I  then  knew  the 
fellow  still  lingered  in  the  neighborhood,  and  I  at 
once  rushed  to  my  men  to  give  orders  for  his  cap- 


342  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

ture.      She   divined   my   intentions,  and   you  know 
the  result." 

"Great  heavens!"  ejaculated  Judge  Chambers, 
bringing  down  his  fist  with  a  thump  on  the  table; 
"and  my  niece,  an  inmate  of  my  house,  has  done 
this.  I  am  disgraced,  ruined,  and  it  will  break  her 
father's  heart.  Major  Kenyon,  too  much  of  this 
is  already  known.  Say  no  more  of  what  you  have 
told  me.  Let  the  disgraceful  story  go  no  further, 
if  possible." 

"Judge,  you  may  depend  upon  my  silence. 
I  shall  respect  your  and  your  family's  feelings  in 
this." 

"Thank  you,  Major;  I  knew  you  would.  Now 
go.      I  must  see  Lucille  at  once." 

"Judge,"  said  the  crafty  liar,  as  he  arose,  "deal 
gently  with  her.  Remember  her  youth.  Fortu- 
nately this  Yankee  captain,  as  we  believe,  lies  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Flint,  so  there  is  no  more  danger 
from  him.  I  still  love  her;  I  still  hope  to  win  her. 
Once  she  is  my  wife  much  of  the  disgrace  will  be 
removed.  Let  any  one,  if  he  dare,  whisper  a  word 
against  the  wife  of  Major  Kenyon." 

"You  are  too  good;  she  is  not  worthy  of  you. 
But  if  I  have  any  influence,  you  shall  have  her." 

"Ah,  my  lady!"  muttered  the  major  as  he  went 
out,  "you  will  yet  have  to  choose  between  me  and 
disgrace — deep,  damning  disgrace — before  this  is 
ended." 

After  Major  Kenyon  had  passed  out,  Judge 
Chambers  leaned  his  head  on  his  hands  and  groaned. 


THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH.      '  343 

Lucille  was  very  dear  to  him,  almost  as  dear  as 
a  daughter.  She  was  the  only  child  of  a  dead 
sister — a  sister  he  had  dearly  loved — and  the  blow 
to  him  was  a  severe  one. 

When  Miss  de  Courtney  returned  from  the 
exciting  scene  in  which  she  had  warned  Fred,  she 
retired  to  her  room  completely  prostrated,  refusing 
to  see  any  one  except  the  faithful  Cato.  The  news 
of  what  she  had  done  created  the  umost  excitement 
and  consternation  in  the  household.  She  remained 
all  day  in  her  room,  in  an  agony  of  fear.  Every 
moment  she  expected  to  hear  that  Captain  Shack- 
elford was  captured,  and  if  he  was,  she  well  knew 
what  his  fate  would  be.  Cato  was  to  bring  her  any 
news  that  came.  As  the  hours  passed  and  there 
were  no  tidings,  she  began  to  hope.  At  last  the 
long  day  closed,  and  the  noise  outside  told  her  that 
the  pursuers  were  returning.  She  heard  the  slow, 
heavy  step  of  Cato  in  the  hall,  and  her  heart  stood 
still.  After  a  timid  knock,  Cato  entered.  She 
gave  one  look  at  his  face  and  her  hopes  fled. 

"Have  they  caught  him?"  she  gasped. 

"No,  missy;   but  he  be  drowned." 

"Drowned?"  she  repeated,  clutching  at  a  chair 
for  support. 

"Yes,  missy;  da  hunted  and  hunted  and  da 
could  git  no  track  of  him,  so  da  say  he  drown." 

"Then  they  did  not  find  the  body?"  she  cried, 
her  face  lighting  up. 

"No,  missy;  da  track  him  to  de  ribber  and  find 
nothin'  mo'." 


344  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Cato,  he  is  not  drowned;  I  know  it,  feel  it. 
He  has  outwitted  them." 

"Bress  de  Lawd  fo'  dat !  Oh,  missy,  I  so  glad!" 

What  Miss  de  Courtney  said  was  always  gospel 
to  Cato. 

Soon  she  received  an  imperative  summons  from 
Judge  Chambers  to  attend  him  in  the  library.  She 
obeyed  listlessly.  As  she  entered  the  room  the 
judge  still  sat  with  his  head  bowed  resting  in  his 
hands.  He  started  at  her  appearance.  Her  droop- 
ing figure,  the  lines  of  agony  in  her  face,  her  eyes 
red  with  weeping,  touched  his  heart.  He  could 
not  be  as  severe  as  he  intended. 

"Lucille,"  he  commenced,  in  an  aggrieved  tone, 
"never  have  I  been  so  wounded  as  you  have 
wounded  me  to-day.  My  child,  what  made  you 
disgrace  yourself  and  me?" 

"Oh,  Uncle,  Uncle,  don't !  I  can't  bear  it"  ;  and 
she  sank  with  streaming  eyes  at  his  feet.  ' '  Uncle, ' ' 
she  sobbed,  "send  me  back  to  Columbia.  You 
know  that  father  is  now  expected  home,  if  the  vessel 
he  is  on  has  the  good  fortune  to  run  the  blockade." 

"I  wish  he  were  here  now,"  broke  in  the  judge; 
"you  need  him.  It  was  a  sad  thing  for  you  that 
your  mother  died  when  you  were  young.  You 
might  not  have  disgraced  her  name." 

Lucille  arose,  with  flashing  eyes.  "Stop!"  she 
cried;  "stop!  I  will  not  hear  you.  And  I  now 
demand  that  you  send  me  to  Macon  to-morrow. 
I   will   not   sleep   under  your  roof  another  night. 


THE  DEATH  OF  SMITH.  345 

Never  have  I  disgraced  the  name  of  my  sainted 
mother,  and  I  never  will." 

The  judge  was  both  astonished  and  angered  by 
the  outbreak. 

"Have  you  not  broken  your  engagement  with 
Major  Kenyon?"  he  demanded. 

"I  never  was  engaged  to  him;   I — " 

"There,  stop,"  broke  in  the  judge,  petulantly; 
"I  know  the  whole  story.  You  never  thought  of 
breaking  with  him  until  you  met  this  murdering 
Yankee  captain." 

"'Tis  false;  I  made  up  my  mind  never  to  marry 
Major  Kenyon  long  before  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of 
Captain  Shackelford." 

"Dare  you  deny  that  you  love  this  miserable 
Yankee?" 

For  a  moment  she  stood  irresolute.  Then 
drawing  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  her  eyes  shin- 
ing, her  bosom  rising  and  falling  with  suppressed 
emotion,  she  proudly  replied:  "I  do  love  Captain 
Shackelford.  A  woman's  love  is  wayward;  she 
only  knows  she  loves." 

The  judge  was  astounded  at  her  bold  avowal, 
but  managed  to  say:   "Thank  God,  he  is  dead!" 

"No,  no,  Uncle,  don't  say  that,"  she  pleaded; 
"you  don't  know  he  is  dead." 

"Almost  certain;  the  Flint  cheated  the  gallows, 
that's  all,  and  it's  a  pity." 

"Uncle,  why  torture  me?"  she  wailed;  "why 
tell   me   that  the  man   I   love  is  dead,  and  by  his 


346  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

dying  cheated  the  gallows?  I  again  demand  that 
you  send  me  to  Macon  to-morrow." 

"And  you  shall  go,  Lucille.  I  had  rather  see 
you  in  your  grave  than  have  you  go  forth  from  my 
roof  under  the  cloud  that  now  overshadows  you. 
No,  don't  answer;   I  have  heard  enough.      Go!" 

Lucille  de  Courtney  went  out  from  the  presence 
of  her  uncle  with  bowed  head  and  trembling  foot- 
steps. Of  all  that  her  uncle  had  said,  these  words 
only  rang  in  her  ears,  ''He  is  dead,  thank  God!" 

Were  they  true?     Alas!  she  feared  they  were. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  RECOVERY  OF  PRINCE. 

HUNGRY,  wet,  and  cold,  Fred  and  Darling 
remained  in  their  retreat  until  near  midnight. 
They  felt  it  would  be  death  to  remain  much  longer. 
So  benumbed  were  they,  they  could  scarcely  move. 
They  knew  that  dangers  confronted  them  on  every 
side,  but  these  would  have  to  be  met.  But  where 
to  go,  what  to  do,  was  the  problem  they  had  now 
to  solve. 

After  earnestly  discussing  the  question,  Fred 
said:  "Dick,  when  we  came  in  here  I  noticed  that 
two  good-sized  logs  had  lodged  against  the  roots 
of  this  tree.  As  there  is  no  moon,  the  night  will 
be  dark.  The  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  float  down 
the  river  on  them." 

"Where  shall  we  float  to?"  asked  Darling. 

"Down  to  our  old  camping-place.  It  will  be 
the  last  place  they  will  look  for  us.  We  may  also 
get  sight  of  Cato,  and  so  be  able  to  get  something 
to  eat,  as  well  as  to  learn  what  is  going  on." 

"And  perhaps  get  sight  of  the  beautiful  Miss 
de  Courtney,"  added  Darling,  mischievously. 

To  this  Fred  made  no  answer. 

Crawling  out  from  under  the  roots,  after  a  little 
347 


34S  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

effort  they  succeeded  in  loosening  the  logs,  and 
silently  floated  down  the  stream.  The  water  proved 
to  be  much  warmer  than  the  air,  and  feeling  gradu- 
ally came  to  their  limbs. 

"How  shall  we  know  when  we  reach  the  place?" 
whispered  Darling;  "we  must  be  nearly  there." 

"I  think  I  see  the  dark  outline  of  the  top  of  the 
pine  under  which  poor  Smith  is  buried,"  answered 
Fred. 

Cautiously  making  their  way  to  the  shore,  they 
found  the  coast  clear,  and  were  soon  in  their  old 
quarters.  The  night  was  quite  cool,  and  they  had 
to  keep  walking  to  prevent  being  chilled  to  the 
bone.  Vigorous  exercise  soon  started  their  slug- 
gish blood,  and  the  heat  of  their  bodies  dried  their 
dripping  clothes. 

All  night  long  they  kept  up  their  ceaseless  vigil. 
The  morning  light  revealed  two  forlorn-looking 
individuals.  Darling  stole  down  to  a  cornfield, 
where  he  gathered  a  few  ears.  So  hungry  were 
the  fugitives  that  they  ate  a  couple  of  ears  apiece 
raw,  their  fire  having  gone  out  and  the  water 
having  spoiled  their  remaining  matches. 

They  were  discussing  the  propriety  of  moving 
a  short  distance,  as  curiosity  might  prompt  some 
one  to  come  and  look  at  the  grave  of  Smith,  when 
the  sound  of  horsehoofs  startled  them.  Looking 
up,  they  saw  Miss  de  Courtney  and  Cato  riding 
toward  the  spring.      Fred  was  off  like  a  shot. 

Miss  de  Courtney  had  come  to  take  a  last  look 
at  the  place  where  she  came  so  near  to  death  and 


THE  RECOVERY  OF  PRINCE.  349 

where  she  first  met  Captain  Shackelford.  She  had 
almost  come  to  the  conclusion  that  her  uncle  might 
be  right,  and  that  her  lover  had  perished. 

She  sat  on  her  horse,  looking  into  the  sparkling 
waters  of  the  river  and  shuddering  when  she 
thought  of  what  they  might  hold  in  their  embrace, 
when  the  approaching  footsteps  of  Fred  startled 
her.  When  she  saw  him,  she  screamed  and  looked 
as  white  as  though  she  had  seen  a  ghost,  then 
cried,  joyfully: 

"Oh!  they  told  me  you  were  drowned." 

"Not  drowned,  but  here  in  the  flesh,"  answered 
Fred,  taking  her  hand.  She  let  him  hold  it  a  mo- 
ment, her  face  rosy  with  blushes  and  happiness, 
then  drawing  it  gently  away,  she  said : 

"Captain  Shackelford,  do  not  misinterpret  what 
I  have  done  for  you.  You  saved  my  life;  I  have 
at  least  paid  a  portion  of  my  debt.  Our  paths  are 
different.  To-day  I  start  for  my  home  in  Colum- 
bia.     We  may  never  see  each  other  again." 

"Oh!  don't  say  that,  don't  say  that!"  cried 
Fred. 

"How  did  you  escape  your  pursuers?"  she 
asked,  without  heeding  what  he  had  said. 

Fred  briefly  told  her. 

"The  Lord  has  been  kind  to  you,"  she  answered. 
"It  is  fortunate  that  your  pursuers  believe  you  were 
drowned.  It  will  give  you  a  chance  to  escape. 
But  you  had  better  go  a  little  south,  then  east, 
before  you  turn  north.  You  will  find  the  country 
unguarded  that  way. 


35°  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

Then  she  told  Fred  what  had  happened,  that 
the  feeling  not  only  against  her  but  against  her 
uncle  was  intense,  and  that  if  she  were  a  man,  her 
life  would  not  be  safe.  "I  believe,"  she  contin- 
ued, "that  Major  Kenyon  is  quietly  trying  to  fan 
this  feeling  into  a  blaze." 

Fred  thought  of  how  he  would  do  all  manner  of 
things  to  Major  Kenyon  if  he  should  ever  happen 
to  meet  him. 

"Miss  de  Courtney,"  he  said,  "we  are  famished. 
Can  you  have  Cato  smuggle  some  food  to  us?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,  it  would  be  too 
dangerous.      Oh!  what  can  I  do?" 

"Have  you  any  matches?" 

Cato  was  appealed  to,  and  after  some  fumbling 
in  his  pockets,  he  produced  half  a  dozen  matches. 
Matches  at  that  time  were  a  scarce  and  precious 
article  in  the  South. 

"Miss  de  Courtney,"  said  Fred, "you  have  again 
saved  us.  We  will  not  starve  as  long  as  green 
corn  holds  out." 

"It  is  little  to  do,"  she  answeed.  "Captain 
Shackelford,  we  must  now  part ;  this  interview  has 
already  lasted  too  long." 

"Hold  a  moment,"  said  Fred  ;  "let  me  speak  to 
Cato."      Taking  the  negro  to  one  side,  he  said: 

"You  belong  to  Miss  de  Courtney,  do  you 
not?" 

"Yes,  massa;  bin  her  groom  ebber  since  she  so 
high,"  and  he  held  his  hand  about  three  feet  from 
the  ground. 


THE  REC OVERT  OF  PRINCE.  351 

"It  is  a  precious  jewel  you  are  guarding,  Cato; 
be  careful  of  her." 

"Ole  Cato  die  fo'  her,"  the  negro  answered, 
fervently.  The  day  came  when  he  made  good  his 
word,  and  yielded  up  his  life  in  defending  her  honor. 

"Miss  de  Courtney,"  said  Fred,  going  to  her 
side,  "I  believe  that  God  in  His  mercy  will  permit 
us  to  meet  again.  I  am  now  nothing  but  a  hunted 
prisoner,  with  a  price  upon  my  head.  Some  time 
it  may  be  different.      Only  remember  I   love  you." 

She  averted  her  face,  but  reached  forth  her  hand. 
Fred  caught  it  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips  again  and 
again.  A  moment  more  and  she  was  galloping 
away.  Little  did  either  think  under  what  circum- 
stances their  next  meeting  would  be. 

Fred  and  Darling  at  once  changed  their  location 
about  half  a  mile,  seeking  the  midst  of  a  dense 
thicket.  Here  they  dug  a  hole,  kindled  a  fire, 
roasted  their  corn,  and  made  a  hearty  meal.  Fred 
thoroughly  cleaned  his  revolver  and  dried  his  car- 
tridges; then  they  took  turns  at  watching  and 
sleeping. 

They  were  not  molested  during  the  day,  and 
when  night  came  they  took  up  their  march  full  of 
hope.  Following  Miss  de  Courtney's  advice,  they 
went  south,  then  east,  following  their  back  tracks, 
first  down,  then  up  the  creek,  to  the  Norton  plan- 
tation. When  morning  came  they  were  miles  away 
from  the  scene  of  their  adventures. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  follow  our  heroes  through 
all  their  wanderings.   The  second  night  they  reached 


352  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

and  crossed  the  Ocmulgee  River  a  little  north  of 
Hawkinsville.  Danger  still  lurked  on  every  side, 
and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  aid  of  friendly 
negroes  they  never  could  have  escaped.  Once  they 
were  attacked  by  a  pack  of  six  dogs,  but  the  ax  of 
Darling  and  the  revolver  of  Fred  made  short  work 
of  them. 

Bearing  northeast,  they  reached  the  Oconee 
River.  This  stream  they  did  not  cross,  but  kept 
up  its  western  bank.  When  a  few  miles  from 
Milledgeville,  their  negro  guide  happened  to  mention 
that  he  belonged  to  a  William  Wood.  They  were 
on  the  plantation  of  Joe's  master.  No  sooner  did 
the  negro  learn  that  they  knew  of  Joe,  than  he 
insisted  that  he  take  them  to  the  cabin  of  Joe's 
widow,  saying  that  they  could  rest  there  during 
the  day,  and  that  it  would  be  perfectly  safe;  no 
one  would  think  of  looking  in  Susan's  cabin  for 
white  men. 

This  they  did,  and  found  a  safe  refuge.  To 
Susan  they  were  as  angels  from  heaven.  Fred 
found  that  Miss  de  Courtney,  true  to  her  promise, 
had  written  a  letter  to  Joe's  master  telling  him  of 
the  death  of  his  slave,  and  sending  his  last  words 
to  his  wife. 

From  the  Wood  plantation  they  shaped  their 
course  northwest.  For  two  weeks  they  hid  by  day 
and  traveled  by  night,  most  of  the  time  under  the 
guidance  of  some  faithful  negro,  who  led  them  by 
secret  forest  paths  on  their  course. 

Near  the  close  of  September  they  found   them- 


THE  RECOVERY   OF  PRINCE.  353 

selves  near  Monroeville.  They  were  now  in  a  sec- 
tion of  country  which  was  contested  ground  between 
the  cavalry  of  both  armies.  Their  hearts  were 
beating  high  with  hope,  for  in  a  day  or  two  more 
they  ought  to  be  safe  inside  of  Sherman's  lines. 
They  were  secreted  in  a  thicket  not  far  from  a  road, 
also  near  to  a  bubbling  spring.  Night  was  drawing 
near,  and  they  had  eaten  a  frugal  meal  of  corn 
bread,  preparatory  to  starting,  when  they  were 
startled  by  the  tramp  of  horses  and  the  jingling  of 
sabers.  A  moment  more  and  a  squadron  of  Con- 
federate cavalry  came  galloping  down  the  road. 
They  halted  at  the  spring  and  made  preparations 
to  encamp.  Pickets  were  thrown  out,  and  Fred 
and  Darling  found  themselves  inside  of  the  Confed- 
erate lines. 

"Well,  this  is  a  pretty  go,"  whispered  Darling; 
"and  we  so  near  liberty!" 

"Let  us  be  thankful,"  answered  Fred,  "that 
darkness  is  near.  If  we  are  not  discovered  imme- 
diately, we  can  easily  crawl  between  posts  as  soon 
as  night  comes." 

But  something  happened  which  entirely  changed 
Fred's  plans.  The  squadron  in  camp  was  joined 
by  another  squadron,  and  at  the  head  of  the  last 
rode  Captain  Chambers,  mounted  on  Prince. 

The  sight  of  Prince  set  Fred  almost  wild.  For 
a  moment  he  lost  his  head,  and  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  restraining  hand  of  Darling  he  would  have 
made  an  attempt  to  capture  the  horse  then  and 
there. 


354  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Are  you  crazy?"  angrily  whispered  Darling, 
as  he  jerked  him  down  with  no  gentle  hand. 

"I  reckon  I  am,"  whispered  Fred,  excitedly; 
"but,  Dick,  I  must  have  that  horse,  or  die  in  the 
attempt." 

"Keep  cool,"  answered  Darling.  "When  it 
gets  dark  we  shall  see  what  can  be  done.  Don't 
spoil  everything  in  your  excitement." 

"Dick,  I  believe  I  am  excited,"  and  with  the 
sleeve  of  his  ragged  blouse  Fred  wiped  away  the 
perspiration  which  had  gathered  on  his  forehead ; 
"but  thanks  to  your  coolness,  I  am  all  right 
now." 

Darkness  settled  down,  but  the  little  camp  of 
the  Confederates  glowed  with  camp-fires,  around 
which  the  soldiers  laughed  and  joked  and  prepared 
their  evening  meal.  It  seemed  an  age  to  Fred  be- 
fore the  fires  burned  low  and  the  hum  of  the  camp 
subsided.  At  last  the  soldiers,  one  by  one,  wrapped 
themselves  in  their  blankets  and  lay  down  to  rest. 
Fred  had  carefully  noted  where  the  horses  of  the 
officers  were  picketed,  and  his  mind  was  fully  made 
up  to  attempt  to  get  possession  of  Prince.  Darling 
entered  fully  into  his  plans,  and  a  long  whispered 
consultation  was  held  as  to  the  best  method  of  pro- 
cedure. 

"Dick,"  said  Fred,  "if  I  can  once  get  on 
Prince's  back  and  you  can  capture  another  horse, 
I  believe,  in  the  darkness  and  confusion,  we  can 
ride  right  through  these  fellows  and  get  away." 

"Wouldn't  it  be  jolly,  Captain,  if  we  could  gal- 


THE  RECOVERY  OF  PRINCE.  355 

lop    into    Sherman's    camp?"     and    Darling    fairly 
chuckled  at  the  idea. 

"That  it  would.    Let  us  creep  a  little  closer;   the 
camp  seems  to  be  comparatively  quiet  now." 

"I  see  a  few  moving  around  yet,"  was  Darling's 
reply,  "but  I  reckon  we  can  crawl  a  little  closer 
without  danger." 

As  noiselessly  as  two  Indians  they  crept  toward 
the  Confederate  camp.  Nearing  a  large  tree,  they 
heard  approaching  foosteps.  Hugging  the  ground, 
they  lay  holding  their  breath,  being  afraid  to 
breathe.  But  the  foosteps  halted  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  tree,  and  a  voice  said: 

"Here  is  a  good  place  to  sit  down,  Chambers, 
and  lean  our  backs  against  this  tree.  Have 
a  smoke?" 

"I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  was  the  answer. 

There  came  a  sound  of  scratching  matches, 
a  feeble  light  flickered  and  flamed  for  a  moment, 
and  then  went   out. 

"Now  that  our  cigars  are  lighted,"  continued 
the  officer  who  spoke  first,  "tell  me  that  story  you 
promised  me.  You  said  it  was  strange  and  some- 
what romantic. 

Captain  Chambers  smoked  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  then  answered : 

"Lieutenant,  the  story  is  both  strange  and 
romantic,  and  as  it  somewhat  touches  the  honor  of 
the  family,  I  would  take  it  as  a  kindness  that  you 
would  receive  it  as  confidential." 

"Certainly,"  was  the  answer. 


356  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"You  remember  the  terrible  wound  I  received 
on  Lookout  Mountain,  just  before  the  battle  of 
Chickamauga?" 

"I  think  I  do;  it's  a  wonder  you  are  alive.' 

"Well,  I  was  after  the  very  horse  I  now  ride; 
I  captured  him  during  the  Stoneman  raid." 

"Yes;  and  had  a  quarrel  with  Kenyon  over  the 
horse.      I  was  mighty  glad  you  got  him.' 

"The  very  fellow  that  shot  me  I  captured  with 
the  horse.  He  was  a  young  fellow,  bright  as 
a  dollar;  said  he  was  a  scout,  and  a  private  in  some 
Kentucky  regiment.  I  doubted  the  story,  for  when 
he  shot  me  he  wore  a  captain's  uniform;  but  if  he 
wanted  to  pose  as  a  private,  it  was  none  of  my 
business.  You  remember  he  made  his  horse  throw 
Kenyon." 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  the  officer;  "that  was  one 
of  the  slickest  tricks  I  ever  knew.  Gad!  but  didn't 
it  rile  the  major,  as  well  as  lose  him  the  horse?" 

"I  think  it  did.  It  hurt  his  pride,  and  that  is 
the  tenderest  thing  about  him.  It's  a  pity  his  con- 
science is  not  as  tender.  The  major  also  doubted 
the  story  of  the  fellow's  being  a  private,  and  set 
out  to  find  if  his  suspicions  were  correct.  The 
prisoner  must  have  received  a  tip,  or  he  must  be 
remarkably  shrewd,  for  when  the  muster-rolls  of  the 
prisoners  were  made  out  at  Athens  he  gave  another 
name  and  regiment.  But  Kenyon  followed  the 
scent  as  keen  as  a  bloodhound,  and  at  last  found 
out  who  the  fellow  really  was. 


THE  RECOVERY  OF  PRINCE.  357 

"And  who  did  he  prove  to  be?"  eagerly  asked 
the  lieutenant. 

"No  less  a  personage  than  Captain  Frederic 
Shackelford,  chief  of  General  Sherman's  scouts, 
and  a  son  of  General  Richard  Shackelford  of  our 
army." 

"Captain,  you  are  joking,"  cried  the  lieutenant, 
in  surprise. 

"Not  a  bit.  Major  Kenyon  now  had  something 
to  work  for  besides  petty  revenge.  It  would  be 
a  feather  in  his  cap  to  expose  the  deception ;  it 
would  also  go  hard  with  Shackelford,  for  it  can  be 
proven  that  he  has  entered  our  lines  several  times 
disguised  as  a  Confederate  officer.  Kenyon  went  to 
Andersonville  to  bag  his  game,  and  to  his  disgust 
found  that  Shackelford  had  escaped  only  the  night 
before." 

"He  must  be  a  bird,  to  get  out  of  Anderson- 
ville," exclaimed  the  lieutenant.  "They  caught 
him  again,  of  course?" 

"No,  they  didn't;  and  what  I  now  tell  you  I 
have  learned  from  letters  received  from  my  father, 
and  it  is  the  strangest  part  of  my  story.  Father 
resides  about  fifty  miles  from  Andersonville,  and 
south  of  Macon,  on  the  Flint  River." 

"How  about  the  romance?"  put  in  the  lieuten- 
ant. 

"I  am  coming  to  that.  I  have  a  cousin,  Lucille 
de  Courtney,  who  resides  in  Columbia,  South  Caro- 
lina.     She  is,  without   exception,  the   most  beauti- 


35§  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

ful  girl  I  ever  saw.  I  was  badly  smitten  with  her 
when  a  boy,  but  both  our  families  have  a  prejudice 
against  cousins  marrying,  so  I  gave  up  my  boyish 
infatuation. 

"Then,  for  some  reason  I  never  fully  understood, 
there  seemed  to  be  an  understanding  that  when  of 
suitable  age  she  should  marry  Major  Kenyon." 

"What,  Kenyon  again?"  growled  the  lieutenant. 
"Confound  him,  if  the  girl  is  as  pretty  as  you  say." 

"Wait  until  I  get  through.  Now  it  happened 
that  my  fair  cousin  was  visiting  at  my  father's  this 
month;  and  Major  Kenyon,  partly  to  see  her  and 
partly  to  see  if  he  could  not  get  track  of  Shackel- 
ford, whom  he  suspected  of  trying  to  make  his  way 
through  the  neighborhood  where  my  father  resides, 
paid  a  visit  to  my  home.  One  morning  while 
Lucille  was  taking  a  canter,  unaccompanied,  her 
horse  ran  away,  and  was  about  to  plunge  from  an 
embankment  into  the  river,  when  this  same  Shack- 
elford, who  was  in  hiding,  shot  the  horse  and  res- 
cued her." 

"Lucky  fellow!"  ejaculated  the  lieutenant. 

"It  was  a  daring  deed  for  him  to  do,  for  the 
whole  country  was  looking  for  him,  and  if  caught 
his  life  would  not  have  been  worth  a  straw.  Two 
days  before,  he  had  killed  an  officer,  a  pooular  fel- 
low, who  was  attempting  to  arrest  him." 

"That's  serious,"  remarked  the  lieutenant. 

"I  should  say  so.  But  my  cousin,  instead  of 
informing  on  him,  shielded  him,  and  ended  up  by 
falling  in  love  with  him." 


THE  RECOVERT  OF  PRINCE.  359 

"I'll !"  ejaculated  the  lieutenant.      "What 

did  she  do  with  Kenyon?" 

"Sacked  him  slick  and  clean." 

"How  did  the  major  take  that?" 

"Got  on  to  the  whole  thing,  and  started  out 
with  a  posse  to  catch  and  hang  Shackelford.  The 
girl  found  it  out,  and  she  and  Kenyon  actually  had 
a  race  to  see  which  would  reach  Shackelford's  hid- 
ing-place first.  The  girl  beat  him  by  a  length, 
warned  her  lover,  and  he  and  a  comrade  with  him 
plunged  into  the  river  and  swam  across.  They 
were  tracked  three  miles  up  the  river,  where  their 
trail  struck  the  stream  again,  and  there  all  traces  of 
them  were  lost.  It  is  supposed  they  attempted  to 
swim  back  across  the  stream,  and  were  drowned. 
You  may  be  sure  the  affair  created  a  sensation. 
Father  sent  Lucille  back  to  Columbia  in  disgrace. 
The  feeling  ran  so  high  that  if  Lucille  had  been 
a  man  she  would  have  been  lynched  without  cere- 
mony. It  took  all  Major  Kenyon's  authority  to 
keep  them  from  burning  father's  house  after  Lucille 
left.  As  it  is,  father  is  afraid  the  affair  will  lose 
him  the  judgeship." 

"Chambers,  you  say  this  cousin  of  yours  is 
beautiful?"  remarked  the  lieutenant,  throwing  away 
the  stub  of  his  cigar. 

"Beautiful!   she  is  magnificent." 

"Then  as  she  has  sacked  Kenyon  and  Shackel- 
ford is  dead,  what  chance  will  there  be — ?" 

"Hold  on,  lieutenant.  Now  comes  another 
queer  part  of  the  story.    Since  her  arrival  in  Colum- 


360  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

bia,  Lucille  has  written  to  father  that  Shackelford 
was  not  drowned ;  that  she  saw  him  the  day  after 
his  supposed  death.  But  father  thinks  it  a  subter- 
fuge on  her  part  to  get  rid  of  Kenyon,  for  he  still 
continues  to  press  his  suit." 

"A  plague  on  both  the  houses  of  Kenyon  and 
Shackelford,"  said  the  lieutenant,  laughing.  "If 
there  is  ever  any  chance  for  me,  let  me  know. 
But,  Captain,  to  change  the  subject,  what  is  Hood 
going  to  do?  He  must  do  something,  or  the  army 
will  disintegrate." 

"I  have  heard  it  hinted,"  answered  Chambers, 
"that  Hood  is  on  the  eve  of  a  movement  that  will 
surprise  not  only  Billy  Sherman,  but  the  whole 
country." 

"The  Lord  grant  it;  but  what  is  it?" 

"A  raid  to  the  rear;  that  will  make  Sherman 
get  back  in  a  hurry." 

"Pshaw!  Haven't  we  tried  raids  time  and  time 
again,  and  what  did  they  amount  to?  It  beats  all 
how  quick  those  blamed  Yankees  will  repair  a  rail- 
road." 

"I  don't  mean  a  raid  with  cavalry,  Lieutenant, 
but  one  with  the  whole  army.  The  first  thing  Sher- 
man knows,  he  will  find  Hood  with  his  entire  army 
in  the  rear.  This  will  force  him  back.  In  less  than 
two  months  I  look  to  see  the  fighting  transferred 
to  Tennessee  and  Kentucky  again." 

"Let  us  hope  so.  The  move  is  a  desperate 
one,  but  only  desperate  measures  will  save  the  Con- 
federacy.     Now,  Chambers,  interesting  as  the  con- 


THE  RECOVER!'  OF  PRINCE.  361 

versation  has  been,  we  had  better  adjourn  it,  for 
we  have  a  long  ride  before  us  to-morrow." 

The  two  officers  bade  each  other  good  night, 
and  each  sought  his  quarters. 

Fred  had  listened  to  this  conversation  with 
amazement.  That  Lucille  de  Courtney  was  a 
cousin  of  Captain  Chambers,  and  that  it  was  on  the 
plantation  of  Chambers's  father  that  he  and  Darling 
had  hidden  was  news  indeed.  But  what  astonished 
him  the  most  was  the  relation  that  Lucille  bore  to 
Kenyon.  That  they  had  been  almost  as  good  as 
engaged  would  have  been  gall  and  wormwood  to 
him  had  it  not  been  for  Captain  Chambers's  declara- 
tion that  Lucille  loved  him. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  whispered  Dar- 
ling as  soon  as  the  officers  got  well  out  of  hearing. 

"I  think,"  answered  Fred,  "that  if  Chambers 
told  the  truth,  I  am  the  happiest  man  in  existence." 

"What!  to  hear  that  Hood  is  going  to  raise 
particular  thunder,  and  force  Sherman  to  get  back?" 

"No,  no;  but  to  hear  that  Lucille  de  Courtney 
loves  me." 

Darling  nearly  exploded  in  the  effort  to  keep 
from  laughing.  He  rolled  over  and  over  and  kicked 
up  his  heels  to  give  vent  to  his  feelings.  "Say, 
Captain,"  he  at  length  managed  to  say,  "love 
seems  to  have  made  you  forget  the  dangers  with 
which  we  are  surrounded,  and  even  to  forget 
Prince." 

Darling's  words  brought  Fred  down  from  the 
seventh  heaven.      He  sighed,  and  said:   "You  are 


362  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

right,  Dick;  I  even  forgot  Prince.  But  I  will  now 
try  to  make  amends.  The  horses  will  be  guarded, 
of  course." 

"Yes;  we  may  have  to  kill  a  sentinel." 

"Not  that,  Dick,  if  we  can  help  it;  we  have 
shed  blood  enough." 

"A  stiff  tap  on  the  head  may  be  sufficient. 
I  feel  a  good  thick  club  by  my  hand  now." 

"Try  it,  Dick.      Strike  to  stun,  not  to  kill." 

"All  right,  Captain;  but  I  bet  the  fellow  will 
have  a  sore  head  if  I  get  a  good  crack  at  him." 

They  waited  until  nearly  midnight  before  they 
dared  to  make  the  attempt.  By  that  time  the 
entire  camp  was  wrapped  in  slumber,  and  the  fires 
gave  but  little  light. 

"Now,"  whispered  Fred,  "remember,  a  false 
move  may  spoil  all." 

Crawling  along  foot  by  foot,  they  were  at  last 
among  the  horses.  The  intelligent  animals  began 
to  be  uneasy.  The  sentinel,  who  was  sleepily 
leaning  on  his  carbine,  straightened  up  to  see  what 
was  the  cause  of  the  commotion.  Then  came  the 
sound  of  a  blow,  a  stifled  moan,  and  the  sentinel 
sank  senseless  to  the  ground.  The  horses  began 
to  snort  and  try  to  break  away. 

"Quick,  Dick!"  cried  Fred,  as  he  sprang  to  the 
side  of  Prince.  Darling  had  no  choice,  so  he  took 
the  horse  next  to  Prince.  There  was  no  time  for 
ceremony.  Already  two  or  three  voices  were  cry- 
ing, "Sentinel,  what  is  the  matter  with  the  horses?" 

Cutting  the  lariats,  and  waiting  for  neither  sad- 


FRED    AND    DARLING    VAULTED    ON    THE    BARE    BACKS    OF    THE 
HORSES,    AND    WERE    OFF. 


THE  RECOVERT  OF  PRINCE.  363 

die  nor  bridle,  Fred  and  Darling  vaulted  on  the  bare 
backs  of  the  horses,  and  were  off. 

"Halt!  halt!"  shouted  a  dozen  voices.  And 
then  came  scattering  shots,  followed  by  a  straggling 
volley. 

Bending  low  over  their  horses'  necks,  they  let  the 
balls  fly  harmlessly  over  them.  The  whole  camp 
was  in  an  uproar.  Shouts,  oaths,  hoarse  com- 
mands, horses  broken  loose  running  wildly  through 
the  camp,  the  sharp  reports  of  firearms,  all  com- 
mingled to  make  the  stampede  more  general. 

The  pickets  heard  the  noise,  and  before  Fred 
and  Darling  reached  them  were  drawn  up  across  the 
road  ready  to  receive  what  was  to  come. 

"Halt!  halt!  What's  the  matter?"  they  called, 
as  Fred  and  Darling  thundered  down  on  them. 

Without  checking  their  speed,  they  cried  :  ' '  Fly ! 
fly!  The  camp  is  being  raided  by  a  whole  brigade 
of  Yankee  cavalry." 

Without  a  word,  the  whole  post  joined  with 
Fred  and  Darling  in  their  headlong  flight. 

"This  is  too  much  of  a  good  thing,"  thought 
Fred.  "How  to  get  rid  of  these  fellows  is  now  the 
question." 

The  dim  outlines  of  a  cross-road  suddenly  ap- 
peared. "Right  wheel!"  shouted  Fred.  The 
Confederates  wheeled  to  the  right,  but  Fred  and 
Darling  kept  straight  on,  and  before  the  Confeder- 
ates realized  what  had  happened,  they  were  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  darkness. 

"Whar  be  them  fellows  who  said  the  camp  was 


364  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

raided?"  suddenly  asked  one  of  the  Confederates. 
No  one  could  tell.  The  Confederates  halted, 
listened,  then  with  curses  wheeled  their  horses  and 
slowly  rode  back.  It  was  quite  an  hour  before  order 
was  fully  established  in  the  Confederate  camp,  and 
they  hardly  knew  what  had  happened,  only  that 
a  sentinel  had  been  struck  down  and  the  horses 
stampeded. 

When  they  became  confident  that  they  were  not 
being  pursued,  Fred  and  Darling  checked  their 
headlong  speed. 

"This  is  awful,"  groaned  Darling,  riding  with- 
out a  saddle. 

"Awful  or  not,  you  will  have  to  stand  it.  There 
is  no  halt  for  us  until  we  reach  the  Federal  lines. 
Come,  Prince,"  and  he  struck  into  a  canter. 

"Oh,  Captain,  hold  on,"  groaned  poor  Darling; 
"this  horse  isn't  thicker  than  a  case-knife." 

"Grin  and  bear  it,  my  boy,  grin  and  bear  it"; 
and  Fred  kept  up  his  swinging  gate. 

Just  as  the  morning  was  breaking  they  were 
halted  by  the  Federal  outpost  near  Decatur. 
Once  in  the  Federal  lines,  Fred  and  Darling  shook 
hands,  danced,  and  shouted  until  the  soldiers 
thought  them  crazy.     They  were  nearly  so  with  joy. 

"I  reckon,"  remarked  Darling,  as  after  a  hearty 
breakfast  they  mounted  their  horses,  now  saddled 
and  bridled,  for  their  ride  into  Atlanta,  "Uncle 
Billy  will  be  rather  surprised  to  see  us.' 

"I  reckon  he  will,"  answered  Fred. 

And  he  was. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"SEE!  SEE!  THERE  IS  ATLANTA." 

IT  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
Fred  and  Darling  came  in  sight  of  the  city  of 
Atlanta.  They  reined  in  their  horses  and  gazed 
long  and  earnestly.  The  city  lay  spread  out  before 
them,  smiling  in  the  morning  sun.  Cannon  no 
longer  thundered ;  the  din  of  contending  armies  was 
no  longer  heard. 

"See!  see!"  cried  Fred;  "there  is  Atlanta — 
Atlanta,  for  which  we  contended  for  four  long 
months;  Atlanta,  for  which  so  many  thousands 
yielded  up  their  lives." 

He  looked  around.  They  were  on  the  battle- 
ground of  July  22d.  Over  there  the  gallant 
McPherson  fell.  Through  the  slumbering  forest  he 
could  see  the  outlines  of  Leggett's  hill.  The  trees 
on  its  summit  were  nodding  peacefully  in  the  morn- 
ing breeze.  Could  that  be  the  place  where  such 
dreadful  scenes  were  enacted?  Was  he  in  that  hell 
of  fire  that  day?  He  could  not  realize  it.  It  all 
seemed  a  horrible  dream.  Long  he  gazed,  and 
then  slowly  they  rode  into  the  captured  city. 

General  Sherman  sat  on  the  veranda  of  his  head- 
quarters, enjoying  a  cigar  and  discussing  the  mili- 
ar 


366 


BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 


tary  situation  with  the  members  of  his  staff.  It 
was  nearly  a  month  since  Atlanta  had  fallen,  and 
the  army  had  been  taking  a  much  needed  rest. 
During  this  time  General  Hood  had  remained  quiet, 
with  headquarters  at  Palmetto;  but  for  the  last  day 
or  two  he  had  been  showing  signs  of  activity,  and 
the  question  being  discussed  was,  What  will  he  do? 

During  his  brief  rest  Gen- 
eral Sherman  was  thinking  out 
a  mighty  problem.  Atlanta 
was  his,  and  "fairly  won,"  but 
the  Confederate  army  still  con- 
fronted him.  What  he  would 
do  depended  in  a  large  measure 
on  what  General  Hood  would 
do.  The  Confederate  presi- 
dent, Jefferson  Davis,  had  vis- 
ited the  army,  and  tried  to  fire 
the  drooping  spirits  of  the  men  with  his  eloquence. 
He  told  the  soldiers  that  their  feet  would  soon  be 
pressing  the  soil  of  Tennessee  and  Kentucky,  that 
Sherman's  army  was  in  dire  extremity,  and  would 
be  obliged  to  fall  back. 

All  this  led  General  Sherman  to  believe  that 
Hood  would  make  a  desperate  effort  to  draw  him 
back  from  Atlanta.  But  where  would  the  blow 
fall?  That  was  the  question  Sherman  was  dis- 
cussing with  his  staff. 

The  consensus  of  opinion  seemed  to  be  that 
Hood  would  move  into  Alabama,  and  from  there 
attempt  the  invasion  of  Tennessee. 


GENERAL   HOOD. 


"SEE!    SEE!    THERE  IS  ATLANTA."         367 

"If  he  does — "  said  General  Sherman,  but  he 
stopped.  The  idea  of  a  march  to  the  sea  was  as 
yet  but  dimly  fixed  in  his  mind,  but  at  that  moment 
what  he  would  do  came  as  a  flash  of  inspiration ; 
so  he  did  not  finish  what  he  was  going  to  say,  but 
added,  "If  he  does,  he  will  be  sorry  for  it." 

Just  then  one  of  the  officers  interrupted  by 
exclaiming:  "What  have  we  here?  Ambassadors 
from  his  Majesty  the  King  of  the  Ragamuffins?" 

All  looked  up.  Fred  and  Darling  had  just  dis- 
mounted, leaving  their  horses  in  the  care  of  two 
grinning  orderlies,  who  mockingly  saluted  them  as 
they  slowly  limped  toward  the  group  on  the  veranda. 

The  general  gave  one  look,  first  at  the  men,  then 
at  the  horses.  "If  I  am  not  mistaken,"  he  said,  in 
a  surprised  tone,  "one  of  those  horses  is  the  one 
that  Captain  Shackelford  rode,  and  those  fellows 
look  like  escaped  prisoners.  Is  it  possible  we  are 
going  to  get  some  news  of  the  captain?" 

By  this  time  Fred  and  Darling  had  come  up, 
and  gravely  saluting,  stood  at  attention. 

"Captain  Shackelford,  as  I  live!"  cried  the  gen- 
eral; and  forgetting  his  military  dignity,  he  sprang 
forward  to  grasp  Fred  and  then  Darling  by  the 
hand.  "Is  it  possible  you  have  been  prisoners,  and 
escaped?' ' 

"Not  only  possible,  but  an  actual  fact,  General." 

"Then  those  rascally  Confederates  lied  to  me. 
When  I  effected  an  exchange  of  prisoners  with 
Hood,  the  first  officer  I  asked  to  be  exchanged  was 
you.      But  they  declared  they  had  not,  and  never 


368  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

had,  a  Captain    Shackelford   as   a   prisoner.      So   I 
gave  you  up  as  dead." 

"Alive,  General,  but  somewhat  dilapidated. 
Oh,  for  a  bath,  a  shave,  a  haircut,  a  decent  uni- 
form !" 

"You  shall  have  them  all  before  I  ask  you 
a  single  question,"  promptly  replied  the  general. 

As  they  limped  away,  Darling  turned  to  one  of 
the  staff,  and  said:  "Excuse  me,  Doctor,  but  will 
you  be  so  kind  as  to  send  around  a  box  of  cooling 
ointment  to  the  bathroom?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  surgeon,  as  the  faint  sem- 
blance of  a  smile  played  around  the  corners  of  his 
mouth. 

A  couple  of  hours  afterwards,  clad  in  neat  uni- 
forms, shaved  and  trimmed,  they  presented  them- 
selves before  General  Sherman. 

"Now  you  look  like  yourselves,"  said  the  gen- 
eral. "Although  I  am  anxious  to  hear  your  story, 
we  will  have  some  dinner  first;  but  I  must  say  you 
do  not  look  starved,  like  most  of  the  prisoners  who 
have  returned." 

"That  may  be  accounted  for,  General,  from  the 
fact  that  we  have  been  living  off  the  country  for 
the  last  month." 

' '  Ah !  no  danger  of  your  starving,  then, ' '  replied 
the  general,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

After  dinner  General  Sherman,  his  whole  staff, 
and  a  number  of  the  other  officers  who  had  gath- 
ered listened  to  Fred's  story.  In  as  few  words  as 
possible  Fred  related  what  had  befallen  himself  and 


"SEE!    SEE!    THERE  IS  ATLANTA."         369 

Darling  from  the  time  they  started  on  the  raid  with 
Stoneman.  And  somehow  he  managed  to  tell  the 
story  without  saying  a  word  of  Lucille  de  Court- 
ney. 

"When  he  had  finished,  the  younger  members 
of  the  staff  gathered  around  him  and  congratulated 
him  on  his  escape,  while  some  of  them  laughingly 
declared  that  if  they  didn't  know  he  was  the  soul 
of  truth,  they  would  be  inclined  to  doubt  his 
story 

But  to  General  Sherman,  Fred's  story  meant 
much  more  than  his  officers  surmised.  He  carefully 
questioned  him  about  the  country  through  which 
he  had  traveled,  the  condition  of  the  roads,  its 
resources,  its  crops,  its  capability  of  supporting  an 
army,  and  he  seemed  to  be  well  pleased  with  the 
answers. 

"Your  capture  may  prove  to  be  not  an  unmixed 
evil,"  he  remarked,  after  Fred  was  through. 

Fred  had  no  idea  what  he  meant  at  the  time, 
but  afterwards  he  knew. 

"Where  is  Hood  now?"  asked  Fred. 

"At  Palmetto;  but  he  seems  to  be  getting 
a  little  lestless.  I  have  the  hardest  kind  of  work  to 
get  any  reliable  information.  Captain,  I  have 
missed  you,  especially  at  Jonesboro,  where  I  could 
have  destroyed  Hardee's  corps,  if  I  only  had  re- 
ceived my  information  a  little  earlier." 

"What  do  you  think,  General,  of  that  conversa- 
tion I  overheard  between  Captain  Chambers  and  the 
lieutenant?     Do  you  believe  General  Hood  actually 


37°  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

contemplates  throwing  his  whole  army  squarely  in 
your  rear?" 

"It  would  be  a  daring  move  for  Hood  to  make, 
and  a  fatal  one  if  I  should  hear  of  it  in  time.  We 
can  only  wait  and  see.  Captain,"  he  continued, 
"you  will  find  your  scouts  somewhat  scattered,  and 
not  as  efficient  as  they  were,  although  Sergeant 
Craig  has  been  doing  pretty  well.  He  is  absent 
now  on  the  right,  watching  Hood." 

"Then  Craig  escaped?"  exclaimed  Fred,  joy- 
fully. 

"Yes,  he  and  Owens.  Now,  Captain,  I  think 
it  best  for  you  and  Lieutenant  Darling  to  take 
a  little  rest.  Therefore  I  give  each  of  you  a  ten 
days'  leave  of  absence.  Make  the  best  of  it,  for 
by  that  time  the  merry  game  of  war  may  com- 
mence again." 

Thanking  him,  Fred  at  once  prepared  to  enjoy 
his  ten  days.  The  first  thing  that  he  did  was  to 
hunt  up  Captain  Hugh  Raymond.  The  fellow 
went  wild  when  he  saw  Fred.  After  nearly  shak- 
ing his  hand  off  and  fairly  hugging  him,  he  ex- 
claimed: "Captain,  I  am  a  staff  officer  now,  and 
must  maintain  some  dignity,  or  I  would  turn  at 
least  half  a  dozen  somersaults.  I  gave  you  up 
for  dead  long  ago.  And  there  is  Prince!  How  in 
the  world  did  you  manage  to  get  back  with 
him?" 

So  Fred  had  to  tell  his  story  all  over  again,  and 
this  time  he  did  not  leave  out  Lucille  de  Courtney. 
When    he    had     finished,     Hugh    cried:     "Captain 


"SEE/    SEE!    THERE  IS  ATLANTA."         37 1 

Shackelford,  if  you  don't  marry  that  girl  you  are 
no  friend  of  mine.  I  wish  Kate  would  take  half 
as  much  interest  in  me  as  Miss  de  Courtney  did 
in  you.  How  did  Kate  look  when  you  saw  her  in 
Macon?" 

"As  beautiful  as  ever.  The  officer  in  command 
of  the  prison  barracks  seemed  very  much  interested 
in  her." 

Hugh's  face  lengthened.  "Blast  him!"  he 
exclaimed.  "I  should  like  to  get  hold  of  him. 
Did  she  say  anything  about  me?" 

"Yes,  she  asked  about  you." 

"That  is  a  good  deal  for  her.  Captain,  I  will 
get  that  fair  cousin  of  yours  yet." 

"Don't  flatter  yourself,  Captain  Raymond." 

"It's  all  right,  anyway;  I  am  not  one  of  the 
heartbreaking  kind.  Hugh  Raymond  is  bound  to 
be  happy  whether  or  no.  But,  Captain,  I  actually 
sniveled,  blubbered  like  a  schoolgirl,  when  I  heard 
you  were  killed." 

"Hugh,  did  you  do  that?  God  bless  you,  old 
fellow!     I  will  remember  that." 

"Oh!  I  was  ashamed  of  myself  a  moment  after- 
wards. But  I  have  some  instructions  to  carry  to 
one  of  our  brigades  now;  so  good-bye  until  I  see 
you  again";  and  mounting  his  horse,  the  light- 
hearted  fellow  galloped  away,  whistling  a  merry 
tune. 

Fred's  next  step  was  to  hunt  up  Colonel  Ains- 
worth.  Finding  his  regiment,  Fred  inquired  for 
the  colonel. 


372  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

"Ainsworth  is  colonel  no  longer,"  was  the 
answer.  "He  won  his  star  at  Jonesboro.  It  was 
his  regiment  that  first  broke  the  rebel  line  in  that 
glorious  charge,  capturing  a  battery,  and  making 
it  possible  to  take  General  Govan  and  his  entire 
brigade  prisoners." 

"I  rejoice  to  hear  of  his  advancement,"  said 
Fred;  "no  one  deserves  it  more." 

He  lost  no  time  in  hunting  the  general  up. 
The  greeting  that  Fred  received  from  Ainsworth 
was  as  sincere,  if  not  as  enthusiastic,  as  the  one  he 
had  received  from  Hugh. 

After  congratulations  were  over,  Fred  said, 
"General,  tell  me  all  that  has  happened  since  I  was 
taken  prisoner. 

"There  is  not  much  to  tell,"  answered  the  gen- 
eral. "After  the  big  battle  on  the  night  of  the 
28th  of  July,  we  pounded  away  for  a  month  with- 
out any  apparent  success.  Then  came  the  move- 
ment in  the  rear  of  Atlanta,  a  movement  which 
none  but  a  military  genius  like  Sherman  could  have 
conceived  and  carried  out.  It  culminated  in  the 
battle  of  Jonesboro  and  the  fall  of  Atlanta.  It's 
a  pity  that  Hardee's  corps  was  not  captured,  and 
Hood's  army  entirely  ruined,  but  it  was  grand  as 
it  was.  I  consider  the  campaign,  with  the  exception 
of  the  Vicksburg  campaign,  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
and  successful  of  the  war.  The  remarkable  feature 
of  it  is  that  General  Sherman  has  so  maneuvered 
that  he  has  inflicted  a  heavier  loss  on  the  enemy 
than  he  himself   has   suffered.      It  is  wonderful — 


"SEE!    SEE!    THERE  IS  ATLANTA:'        373 

wonderful — and  in  marked  contrast  with  the  cam- 
paign in  Virginia,  if  all  reports  are  true."* 

"It  has  certainly  been  a  glorious  campaign," 
said  Fred.  "I  found  the  whole  country  in  a  panic 
over  the  fall  of  Atlanta.  Many  are  boldly  predict- 
ing the  fall  of  the  Confederacy." 

"Captain,"  suddenly  remarked  Ainsworth,  "do 
you  know  that  Mabel  Vaughn  and  your  cousin 
Kate  Shackelford  are  in  Atlanta?" 

"What!"  exclaimed  Fred  in  surprise. 

"Yes;  Miss  Vaughn  is  here  superintending  the 
removal  of  a  train-load  of  sick  and  wounded  sol- 
diers. Your  cousin,  it  seems,  had  been  south  to 
attend  on  her  father,  who  was  wounded." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Fred;  "I  met  her  in 
Macon." 

"You  did?  Well,  when  General  Sherman 
ordered  all  citizens  out  of  Atlanta,  she  came  through 
the  lines  to  get  to  her  home.      But  the  poor  girl  had 

♦General  Sherman  in  his  "  Memoirs  "  gives  his  entire  loss  in  the  Atlanta 
Campaign  as  31,687.  Most  histories  give  it  at  this  figure.  But  the  "  Official 
Records  of  the  Rebellion"  show  that  his  loss  was  37,081.  Thus  Sherman  lost 
at  least  one-third  of  his  army,  to  say  nothing  of  those  sent  back  sick. 

The  Confederate  loss  is  harder  to  arrive  at.  Surgeon-General  Foard  gives 
a  loss  of  22,520  killed  and  wounded  exclusive  of  the  cavalry  and  the  Georgia 
State  troops.  To  this  add  the  number  of  prisoners  taken  by  Sherman's 
army,  viz:  12,982,  and  we  have  the  total  loss  of  the  Confederates  as  35,502, 
exclusive  of  the  cavalry  and  the  Georgia  State  troops. 

But  Surgeon-General  Foard's  figures  are  known  to  be  signally  incorrect. 
General  Hood  proves  pretty  conclusively  that  from  all  causes  General  J.  E. 
Johnston  lost  nearly  25,000  men  up  to  the  time  he  yielded  up  the  command. 
Foard  claims  that  Hood,  in  all  of  his  battles  before  Atlanta  and  Jonesboro, 
lost  in  killed  alone  1,800  men.  The  Federal  army  buried  and  delivered  to 
the  enemy  under  a  flag  of  truce  more  than  double  that  number  of  Confeder- 
ate dead.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  Confederate  army  while  under  Hood 
lost  from  all  causes  at  least  25,000  men,  making  the  Confederate  losses  in 
the  campaign  from  45,000  to  50,000.  General  Hardee  says  that  his  corps 
alone,  while  under  Hood,  lost  between  7,000  and  8,000.  Sherman's  army  dur- 
ing the  120  days  which  the  campaign  lasted  fired  about  170,000  cannon-shots, 
or  on  an  average  one  shot  each  minute  for  the  120  days.  In  the  same 
time  the  army  fired  20.000,000  rounds  of  rifle  cartridges,  or  an  average  of  no 
for  each  minute  of  time.  There  were  nearly  as  many  horses  and  mules 
killed,  disabled,  and  captured  as  men.  These  figures  show  the  awful 
destructiveness  of  war. 


374  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

a  hard  time  of  it.  Captain  Raymond  happened  to 
see  her  crowded  into  a  cattle-car  with  a  lot  of 
refugees.  For  some  reason  he  did  not  wish  to 
make  himself  known,  so  he  told  me,  and  he  asked 
me  to  tell  Mabel  Vaughn,  without  mentioning  his 
name.  I  did  so.  Miss  Vaughn  at  once  befriended 
her.     They  will  go  North  in  a  day  or  two." 

"General,  what  you  have  told  me  surprises  me. 
I  wonder  why  Hugh  said  nothing  about  it.  I  must 
see  them  at  once." 

Fred  lost  no  time  in  hunting  up  Mabel  Vaughn. 
Time  had  only  strengthened  their  brotherly  and 
sisterly  affection  for  each  other.* 

"Oh!  Fred,  Fred!"  she  cried,  the  first  joyful 
surprise  over,  "I  would  not,  could  not,  have  you 
dead.  When  Kate  told  me  you  had  been  drowned, 
I  could  not  believe  it,  and  now  here  you  are  alive 
and  well.  Oh!  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you!  Who 
told  you  I  was  here?" 

"General  Ainsworth,  Mabel.  "He  is  climbing, 
isn't  he.      He  is  a  grand  man." 

A  blush  mantled  her  cheek  as  she  replied,  "I 
honor  him  very  much." 

"Is  that  all,  Mabel?" 

"I — think — that's — all,"  she  replied,  slowly. 
"Sometimes  I  don't  know." 

"I  trust  the  time  will  come  when  you  will  think 
differently.      Mabel,  I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

Then  he  told  her  all  about  Lucille  de  Courtney. 

♦See  "  General  Nelson's  Scout,"  and  "  On  General  Thomas's  Staff." 


"SEE!    SEE!    THERE  IS   ATLANTA:''         375 

She  listened  with  glistening  eyes.  When  he  was 
through,  she  cried,  "I  know  she  must  be  a  blessed 
girl,  and  worthy  of  you." 

"But,  Mabel,"  said  Fred,  dejectedly,  "I  may 
never  see  her  again." 

"Oh,  but  you  will,  I  know  you  will!  Fred, 
have  you  seen  Kate  yet?" 

"No;  I  hear  you  befriended  her,  Mabel.  I  must 
thank  you." 

"Poor  Kate!  I  found  her  nearly  crazy  with  her 
surroundings.  It  was  fortunate  General  Ainsworth 
saw  her." 

"It  was  not  the  general,  but  Captain  Raymond, 
who  first  saw  her.  He  spoke  to  the  general  about 
it,  and  asked  him  to  speak  to  you." 

"You  surprise  me.  Why  has  Captain  Raymond 
wished  to  keep  in  the  background?" 

"I  think  I  can  tell,"  said  Fred.  "He  does  not 
want  Kate  to  know  she  is  under  any  obligations  to 
him.  The  fact  is,  he  worships  Kate,  but  her  hatred 
of  Yankees  is  so  great  she  will  not  have  anything 
to  do  with  him.  Hugh  is  independent;  he  will  not 
force  his  attentions  on  her." 

"It  may  come  out  all  right,"  replied  Mabel, 
"but  never  while  the  war  lasts.  Kate  would  sooner 
die  than  marry  any  one  fighting  the  South.  But 
let  us  go  and  see  her;  she  will  receive  you  as  one 
from  the  dead." 

They  found  her  in  the  quarters  provided  for 
her  by  Mabel.  When  she  saw  Fred,  she  gave 
a  shriek,  and  they  thought  she  was  going  to  faint. 


376  BATTLING   FOR  ATLANTA. 

Then  giving  a  joyful  cry,  she  was  in  his  arms,  cry- 
ing and  sobbing.  She  at  length  found  her  voice. 
"Oh,  Fred!  Fred!  we  have  all  mourned  you  as 
dead.  Fred,  you  don't  know  the  sorrow  you  have 
caused  your  father." 

"My  father?  Does  he  know  I  was  a  prisoner? 
Kate,  I  thought  you  promised  me  not  to  tell  him." 

"But  the  time  came  when  it  was  my  duty  to 
tell"  ;  and  Kate  told  him  all  that  had  happened — 
how  he  had  been  pursued  by  Major  Kenyon,  how 
Calhoun  and  she  tried  to  save  him,  and  that  he 
escaped  the  vengeance  of  Kenyon  only  by  getting 
out  of  Andersonville  when  he  did. 

"Your  father, "  continued  Kate,  "at  once  caused 
a  strict  but  secret  inquiry  to  be  made  of  what  had 
become  of  you,  and  the  report  that  you  had  per- 
ished in  the  Flint  River  nearly  killed  him;  but  he 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven  and  said,  'Thank  God!' 

"Kate!  Kate!  Father  did  not  say  that ;  he  could 
not." 

"Yes,  he  did;  and  so  did  I,  and  so  did  every 
one  who  loved  you." 

Fred  could  only  look  at  her  in  amazement. 

"Fred,  don't  you  understand?  After  that 
dreadful  act,  the  killing  of  the  officer  of  the  State 
troops,  there  would  have  been  no  mercy  shown ; 
you  would  have  been  strung  up  like  a  dog,  if  cap- 
tured. Was  it  not  better  for  us  to  know  that  you 
had  perished  in  the  river  than  to  know  you  had 
met  a  felon's  death?" 

"Forgive  me,  Kate,"  said  Fred,  in  a  trembling 


-'SEE/    SEE!    THERE  IS  ATLANTA."         2)11 

voice;  "I  did  not  understand.  Yes,  it  would  have 
been  better  a  thousand  times  to  perish  in  the  river 
than  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  my  pursuers." 

"Oh,  Fred,  the  agony  you  have  caused  us  all! 
Your  father  has  grown  ten  years  older  in  the  last 
month.  First  came  the  fall  of  Atlanta,  then  the 
news  of  your  death." 

"Poor  father!  how  I  wish  I  could  see  him!" 

"Why  do  you  cause  him  all  this  agony?"  cried 
Kate,  with  flashing  eyes.  "Why  consort  with  the 
enemies  of  the  South?  I  know  how  much  you 
have  done  for  me,  for  us  all;  how  pleasant  you 
have  made  it  for  mother  in  Nashville;  but,  oh! 
I  hate  the  Yankees,  and  I  loathe  that  beast  of 
a  Sherman.  Fred,  do  you  know  that  since  the  fall 
of  Atlanta  I  have  seen  so  much  misery,  so  many 
tears  shed,  that  I  am  almost  beside  myself?  You 
have  heard  how  that  brute  of  a  Sherman  expelled 
the  entire  population  of  Atlanta.  Oh !  it  was  cruel, 
cruel!" 

"Better  that  than  let  them  starve,"  said  Fred. 

"I  will  not  hear  you,"  she  cried.  "You  do  not 
know  the  suffering  the  order  caused.  When  father 
heard  of  the  order  he  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
time  for  me  to  get  back  to  Nashville  with  the 
refugees,  so  I  came  to  Atlanta.  I  was  crowded  in 
a  dirty  freight-car  with  weeping  women  and  chil- 
dren— with  women  with  babes  at  the  breast,  with 
women  sick  unto  death.  Here  1  was  seen  by 
Mabel  Vaughn.  She  was  a  ministering  spirit  to 
those   poor  women;  she   made   their  condition   as 


37§  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

comfortable  as  possible.  Fred,  that  girl  is  an 
angel." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Fred. 

"Fred,  you  ought  to  marry  her.  I  have  often 
wondered  why  you  and  Mabel  do  not  love  each 
other. " 

"We  do,  Kate,  as  brother  and  sister.  But  it  was 
not  Mabel  Vaughn  who  first  discovered  you  ;  it  was 
Captain  Hugh  Raymond." 

"What!"  cried  Kate,  with  open  eyes. 

"It  was  Captain  Raymond  who  first  saw  you, 
and  informed  General  Ainsworth,  and  had  him  tell 
Mabel  Vaughn." 

"Why  did  he  do  this?  Why  didn't  he  make 
himself  known?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Kate,  for  a  certainty,  but 
I  believe  he  did  not  want  you  to  feel  under  any 
obligations  to  him.  In  other  words,  he  does  not 
wish  to  seem  to  be  forcing  his  attentions  on  you. 
Yet,  Kate,  he  loves  you,  and  you  know  it." 

With  the  rich  blood  leaping  in  her  face,  she 
cried:  "Who  told  you  this?  Did  Captain  Ray- 
mond?" 

"No;  he  did  not  even  tell  me  you  were  in  the 
city.  I  am  indebted  to  General  Ainsworth  for  the 
information." 

"Why  do  you  tell  me  this?"  she  said,  with  quiv- 
ering lip.  You  know  Hugh  Raymond  can  never  be 
anything  to  me.  I  would  rather  die  than  marry  an 
enemy  of  the  South." 

"The  day  may  come  when  there  will  be  no  ene- 


"SEE!    SEE!    THERE  IS   ATLANTA:'         379 

mies  of  the  South,  when  the  country  will  all  be  one 
again." 

"No,  no;  the  South  will  be  victorious.  She 
cannot  be  conquered.  Don't  think  because  you 
have  Atlanta  that  the  war  is  over.  Before  many 
weeks  Sherman's  army  will  be  starving,  and  Hood's 
cannon  will  be  thundering  before  Nashville.  See 
if  it  isn't  so." 

"All  right,  Kate;  I  will  try  to  get  there  before 
him.  I  have  a  ten  days'  leave  of  absence,  and 
I  think  I  will  take  you  home  to  see  Aunt  Jennie. 
What  do  you  say,  Kate?" 

"Oh!  will  you,  Fred?"  she  cried,  clapping  her 
hands.      "That  will  be  jolly." 

"Well,  be  ready  to-morrow.  You  don't  want 
to  see  Captain  Raymond  before  you  go,  do  you, 
and  thank  him  for  his  kindness?" 

"Oh,  no,  no!     Fred,  you  are  cruel." 

"I  was  only  joking.  Be  ready  to-morrow, 
Kate.' 

After  Fred  had  gone,  Kate  Shackelford  had 
another  fight  with  her  heart;  and  once  more  she 
thought  that  she  had  gained  the  victory,  and  that 
Hugh  Raymond  was  nothing  to  her. 

The  next  day  Fred  started  with  Kate  for  Nash- 
ville. To  him  the  trip  to  Chattanooga  was  full  of 
interest.  Every  landmark  wore  a  familiar  look. 
Almost  every  foot  of  ground  had  been  fought  over. 
There  was  Kenesaw.  From  its  summit  waved  the 
stars  and  stripes.  Fred's  heart  was  full  of  hope. 
He  believed  that  the  end  of  the  war  was  near,  that 


380  BATTLING  FOR  ATLANTA. 

it  was  virtually  over.  Little  did  he  think  that  even 
before  he  reached  Chattanooga  he  would  be  called 
back  to  duty.  Yet  in  less  than  three  days  he  aided 
in  the  gallant  defense  of  Allatoona. 

Afterwards  he  contributed  to  the  success  of  that 
historic  march  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea,  and  from 
the  sea  to  Washington,  there  to  take  part  in  that 
grand  parade  which  proclaimed  the  war  over  and 
the  Union  preserved. 


Wt  Hartley  Carf: 


The  Young  Kentuckians  Series 


General  Nelson's  Scout 


BY 

BYRON  A.  DUNN 

AUTHOR  OF  "ON   GENERAL  THOMAS'S  STAFF." 


i2mo.,  379  pages,  $1.25 


This  novel,  primarily  intended  for  boys,  is  of  much  in- 
terest to  old  soldiers.  It  gives  a  more  vivid  account  of 
affairs  in  Kentucky  at  the  outbreak  of  the  War  of  the 
Rebellion  than  can  easily  be  found  elsewhere.  The  hero 
espouses  the  cause  of  the  Union,  while  his  cousin,  his 
bosom  friend,  joins  the  Confederacy.  Their  loyalty  to  the 
antagonistic  causes  conflicts  with  the  personal  affection 
which  still  binds  them,  and  gives  an  element  of  keen 
interest  to  the  story,  which  abounds  in  thrilling  incidents. 

"All  the  best  and  noblest  in  a  boy's  character  is  appealed  to.  Both 
Southern  and  Northern  readers  will  be  delighted  with  it."—  The  Daily 
Inter  Ocean,  Chicago. 

"It  is  strong,  swift  in  movement,  and  earnest  in  spirit."—  The  St. 
Louis  Star. 

"  Fact  and  fiction  are  skillfully  joined;  all  the  military  movements  are 
true  history,  and  many  of  the  characters  are  historical."—  The  Saturday 
Evening  Gazette,  Boston. 

"  The  book  is  straightforward,  manly,  and  inspiring;  and  the  illustra- 
tions are  excellent." — The  Living  Church,  Chicago. 

"A  tale  of  moving  interest." — The  Boston  Globe. 


FOR  SALE  BY  ALL  BOOKSELLERS,  OR  MAILED  ON 
RECEIPT  OF  PRICE,  BY 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  Publishers 

CHICAGO 


THE  YOUNG  KENTUCKIANS  SERIES 


On  General  Thomas's  Staff 


BYRON    A.    DUNN 

Author  of  "General  Nelson's  Scout,"  "  Battling  for  Atlanta." 
i2mo,  379  pages,  $1.25. 

Encouraged  by  the  hearty  reception  accorded  the  stir- 
ring narrative  of  "  General  Nelson's  Scout,"  Mr.  Byron  A. 
Dunn,  the  author,  has  embodied  in  this  volume  memories 
of  his  further  experiences  of  the  Civil  War.  In  an  histori- 
cally accurate  framework,  it  sets  forth  a  moving  story  of  dar- 
ing actions  and  adventure  which  will  delight  the  youthful 
reader.  The  career  of  the  hero  of  the  former  tale,  Fred, 
now  Captain,  Shackelford,  his  hairbreadth  escapes  and  dar- 
ing and  gallant  services,  will  be  followed  with  interest  not 
only  by  the  young,  for  whom  the  stories  are  especially 
written,  but  also  by  veterans  of  the  war  and  their  families, 
and  indeed  by  all  who  are  keenly  interested  in  that  marvel- 
lous chapter  of  history. 

"  Certainly  no  novel  that  has  come  under  my  observation  can  compare  in 
vivid  interest  and  real  couleur  locale  with  this  book.  *  *  *  I  feel  sure  that 
those  who  read  this  novel  will  bear  me  out  in  the  assertion  that  it  is  a  splendidly 
told  and  natural  story  of  the  Rebellion." — Henry  Haynie,  in  The  Boston 
Times. 

"In  accounts  of  military  movements  and  battles,  it  has  been  the  aim  of  the 
author  to  arrive  as  nearly  as  possible  at  the  exact  truth.  To  this  end  he  has 
carefully  searched  the  official  records  of  the  Rebellion,  the  several  histories  of  the 
times,  the  numerous  personal  memoirs  of  the  commanders  of  both  sides,  and  has 
also  used  his  personal  knowledge  as  well  as  the  knowledge  of  his  comrades. 
The  result  of  his  labors  is  a  moving  and  spirited  recital  of  the  episodes  and  inci- 
dents which  distinguished  the  memorable  campaign  that  was  inaugurated  by  the 
siegeof  Corinth,  and  culminated  in  the  sanguinary  battle  which  swept  the  heights 
of  Missionary  Ridge.  It  is  a  war  story  that  inspires  the  patriotism  of  youth  and 
old  age  alike,  the  while  glorifying  General  Thomas." — Detroit  Journal. 

"  The  story-telling  is  straightforward,  swift,  and  strong;  the  tone  manly  and 
earnest.  The  book  will  commend  itself  in  Old  Kentucky,  and  ought  to  find 
many  friends  on  both  sides  of  the  vanished  Mason  and  Dixon's  line." — The 
Churchman,  New  York. 

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The  Cardinal's  Musketeer 

AN   HISTORICAL  ROMANCE 

BY 

MARY  IMLAY  TAYLOR 
i2mo,  §i. 25. 

The  hero  of  "The  Cardinal's  Musketeer"  is  a  knightly 
youth,  brave  and  generous,  and  a  devoted  lover.  The  plots 
of  the  King's  mother,  Marie  de  Medicis,  and  the  counter- 
plots of  the  patriotic  Cardinal  give  rise  to  forceful  action 
and  dramatic  situations;  yet  no  attempt  is  made  to  cram 
the  reader's  mind  with  the  facts  and  dates  of  French  history. 
*  *  *  Our  hearty  sympathy  is  engaged  from  the  first  on 
behalf  of  P£ron,  the  Cardinal's  Musketeer,  to  whom  we  are 
introduced  in  his  childhood,  and  on  behalf  of  the  haughty 
little  demoiselle  Renee,  who  ultimately  becomes  his  wife. 
The  story  is  full  of  life  and  love.  Lengthy  descriptions 
and  sermonizings  are  conspicuously  absent;  the  characters 
speak  for  themselves,  act  their  parts,  and  manifest  all  that 
is  in  them  by  their  words  and  deeds. 

"The  story  is  full  of  life,  love,  and  exquisite,  not  to  say  dramatic,  incidents." 
— Boston  Times. 

"There  is  love  enough  to  warm  and  color  the  adventure,  but  not  to  cloy  the 
taste;  there  is  dramatic  contrast  of  character  and  situation,  swiftness  of  move- 
ment, and  an  easy,  confident  flow  of  style  that  combine  to  make  a  delightful  tale 
— one  that  the  reader  will  lay  down  with  a  regret  that  there  is  not  more  of  it." — 
Ch  ic  ago   Ch  ro  n  icle . 

"The  story  is  a  strong,  well-studied  reproduction  of  the  times  of  Cardinal 
Richelieu.  *  *  *  It  is  a  stirring  romance,  overflowing  with  life  and  action." 
—  The  Indianapolis  News. 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY  MISS  TAYLOR 

ON  THE  RED  STAIRCASE,  i2mo,  $1.25. 

"  A  most  vivid  and  absorbing  tale  of  love  and  adventure." — The  Church- 
man, New  York. 

AN  IMPERIAL  LOVER,  i2mo,  $1.25. 

"Skillfully  constructed,  well  written,  and  thoroughly  interesting." — Spec- 
tator, London. 

A  YANKEE  VOLUNTEER,  i2mo,  S1.25. 

"A  story  fraught  with  such  exquisite  beauty  as  is  seldom  associated  with 
history." — Boston  Times. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WIZARD,  i2mo,  S1.25. 

"  A  strong,  well-studied,  and  striking  reproduction  of  the  social  and  political 
conditions  of  the  age  of  King  Henry  VIII.  *  *  *  Overflowing  with  life  and 
action." — Chicago  Chronicle. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  publishers, 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO., 
CHICAGO. 


The  Dread  and  Fear  of  Kings 

BY 

J.  BRECKENRIDGE  ELLIS 

i2mo,  $1.25. 

This  romance,  of  which  the  historical  background  is  the 
reign  of  terror  in  Rome  in  the  time  of  Tiberius,  will  take 
rank  with  the  most  famous  novels  dealing  with  ancient 
life.  The  historical  setting  is  careful  and  accurate,  and 
gives  a  vivid  picture  of  the  reign  of  the  profligate  Caesar. 
A  skillful  love  story  runs  throughout;  the  dialogue  is  piquant, 
and  the  book  abounds  with  deeds  of  valor. 


"  For  stirring  adventures  and  romantic  love  scenes,  one  need  go  no  farther. 
Mr.  Ellis  has  written  a  book  that  will  be  eagerly  read  by  all  who  like  a  stirring 
and  well-told  story." — The  Chicago  Tribune. 

"The  author  has  found  it  possible  to  produce  a  Roman  narrative  without 
persecuting  and  shedding  the  blood  of  Christians,  and  for  this,  as  well  as  other 
reasons,  lovers  of  the  historical  novel  will  probably  relish  'The  Dread  and  Fear 
of  Kings.'  *  *  *  The  plot  is  skillfully  woven,  and  at  no  time  does  it  lack  in 
interest." — The  Indianapolis  News. 

"Mr.  Ellis  has  written  an  entertaining  and  lively  chronicle  of  the  reign  of 
Tiberius  and  the  ascendency  of  his  favorite  Sejanus.  The  local  color  of  the  story 
is  quite  convincing.  The  author  gives  an  excellent  notion  of  the  various  types 
of  the  many  nationalities  that  thronged  Rome  at  the  time,  and  a  spirited  descrip- 
tion of  the  sports  in  the  amphitheater  at  Fidense  and  its  collapse  at  the  height  of 
the  games.  Unlike  the  majority  of  the  romances  of  this  era,  the  story  ends  most 
happily,  and  leaves  the  reader  with  a  sense  of  having  been  both  instructed  and 
entertained." — Commercial  Advertiser ',  New  York. 

"  It  is  the  story  of  ancient  Rome  in  the  reign  of  Tiberius  Caesar — a  period  of 
riot,  debauchery,  and  terror.  *  *  *  One  of  the  most  interesting  characters 
in  the  book  is  Alexis  the  Greek,  whose  predominant  trait  is  intense  love  for  the 
beautiful.  His  passionate  nature  gets  him  into  all  sorts  of  trouble.  His  friend 
in  need,  Varro,  imparts  to  the  story  zest  and  life,  for  Varro  could  not  live  with- 
out adventure.  Varro  is  exceedingly  well  drawn.  'The  Dread  and  Fear  of 
Kings'  is  both  entertaining  and  instructive." — The  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  publishers, 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO., 
CHICAGO. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
375 


